Blood is Rare and Sweet as Cherry Wine
by Sectumsempra11
Summary: Lucius Malfoy has every privilege in the world, but his future prospects hang in the balance when he is accused of murder. His actions could cost him everything, but every bad thing he does seems to lead him closer and closer to Narcissa Black. AU. M For NSFW scenes and murder.
1. Chapter 1

The fall afternoon was dim with fog and brief interludes of misty rain, not enough to soak to the bone through their thick woolen coats, but the trail of their cloaks that bled like silk down their backs drifted through the sodden grass and mud and leaves collected at the hems. They drifted through several miles of dark forest and appeared in a wide field covered in blankets of fog and the overhead pale sun could not guide their way, though it was light enough to go without wands. Still yet, were it not for their misguided youthful abandonment, the two young men might have worried that they could not see what forty paces in front of them was, let alone what peaked along the horizon.

"Theo," one of the boys said, stopping as they encountered a field of tall grass. "I think we've surpassed the Zabini property line."

Puddles were forming along the stalks of the marsh. He pocketed the book in his hand and the quill. The pages were scribbles of drawings of plants and leaves, composed from careful study of the plant itself in the wild.

Theodore Nott was a lanky looking young man of twenty, with horn-rimmed glasses he magicked to be impervious to rain droplets, allowing him to see. He was dressed sharply in all black, a green cloak trailing off of his shoulders and clasped at his neck with a silver emblem bearing the markings of his family coat of arms. He was a sharp jawed, freckled man with light amber eyes and a shy smile.

"Can't have," he replied, his voice ringing through the quiet, "We should be able to move east as far as we can until we hit the river, then we will be around the Black Manor."

Black Manor was once Brympton House, previously opened to Muggles, until Cygnus Black acquired it for his family and closed it to the public over twenty years ago.

"Lucius," Theo said, twisting his lips into an easy smile, "Even if we do accidentally tread onto their property, I doubt we need to explain ourselves with all of this fog."

"True enough," the man replied, nodding his head.

Lucius Malfoy was from Wiltshire, which bordered Somerset to the east. Candra Zabini was from their year when they were at Hogwarts and one of their companions whom they were visiting, but he had declined their invitation to walk in this weather and stayed behind, complaining of a headache, but refusing spells or remedy. Theodore had no real interest in Herbology, but he humored Lucius's passions because he was the only one who allowed him to speak at length of Arithmancy and Wizard's Chess and because Lucius was adept with Potions that rid him of the frequent pains in his back.

They passed through the flat of field, their boots and cloaks sodden with mud. The field was a short stretch, perhaps not a field at all, but instead a wide clearing, and then they were trailing through the woods once more, winding through ancient trees with spindled branches, gnarled and covered in brilliant explosions of warm hues. Lucius stopped to capture the particular likeness of a tree on a page while Theo charmed the mud and water from their boots and cloaks, working so quietly and efficiently that Lucius didn't notice, for he was crouched with his knee against the forest floor and the other propped up, his journal against his thigh as he worked.

When he was finished with the basic details, he closed the journal and they continued through the forest. Theo was certain they would meet the river soon and could turn around, but they were out of the thick of the forest and making their way up a sloping lawn when suddenly high stone walls were looming above them through a thinning of the fog as mist swirled around them.

Lucius glanced at his friend, who had his hands on his hips, peering at the silhouette of the mansion with a stunned expression.

"I believe we passed the Zabini property line," Lucius retorted.

"Nonsense," Theo replied with a smile, "This is but a very large boulder in the shape of a home. We have not yet made it to the river, so we are not there yet."

Lucius rolled his eyes. They met with the side of the home, near to the front of the home, which Lucius knew to face north. It was likely they skirted through the forest at a northeast angle and just scarcely avoided the river, and he thought their manicured gardens and pathways were on the west side of the home.

"Do you think they have charms on their home to alert them when someone comes on the property?" Theo asked him, "Would it be improper to Apparate back?"

"It is doubtful we even can Apparate on their property," Lucius responded, "We should walk nearest the door and see if they are home. If they are not, we will turn down the drive until we are off their property and Apparate there."

When they rounded the corner of the manor, they found the large paned windows were shrouded by curtains and no light poured from them. The curtains too were drawn on each window, making it impossible to tell if anyone was home or not.

Theo grasped Lucius by the arm. "It seems, if they are home at all, they may not be welcoming visitors. Instead of Apparating back home, let's walk some more. After days of playing cards and reading in the drawing-room with Candra, I need the fresh air."

"Very well," Lucius consented easily because he did not mind the exercise.

They walked round the house and Theo, after some deliberation, decided upon the direction back west, but he walked around the edge of the home until they were on the back, where the veranda and high garden walls were erected as the courtyard. Lucius lifted his eyes to the top floor window and paused at the sight. There, bathed in a calm yellow halo of light, was a young blonde woman, her hair braided from the nape of her neck, running over her shoulder. Her dress was white, the fabric pooling down the high backed chair she was sitting in with her legs curled to her chest, a book resting against her knees. She flipped the pages—a saucer and cup of tea were hovering midair near her right arm, waiting for her to reach for it to drink.

"Narcissa Black," Theo announced, brushing against Lucius's shoulder with his own as they both looked up at her. "She was two years behind us at Hogwarts. I recognize her from my family's lineage book."

Lucius nodded his head. "That's right. I've never actually spoken with her."

"Well no, you wouldn't," Theo remarked, "She'll only just enter society this winter. You've had no occasion to talk to her unless you were at school."

"This winter?" Lucius replied, "That seems so late."

"Either her parents dote on her," Theo said, "Or they struggled to get her older sisters engaged first. Either way, she won't be an eligible bride until then."

Marriage and engagements were all anyone could think of in their society. The Sacred Twenty-Eight was obsessed with blood purity and prosperity, securing each successive line with offspring was paramount to their existence and continuation of friendships. This aspect of their society, arranged marriages and the concept of blood superiority was not an allowed topic of discourse. It was treason to suggest one's parents were wrong, that their political decisions and society's practices were less than scrupulous was a guaranteed way of losing one's entire inheritance, family, and prospects. Lucius's own parents had not secured a wife for him, but the time of his youth was dwindling, and he knew it. The only reason he reached twenty unwed was because of the sheer volume of marriage requests and interviews. Letters arrived from other countries, cousins of his mother from France wrote in to ask for an opportunity to interview and try their hand.

A woman worthy to be titled Malfoy must have had about her the most serious of accomplishments. His mother spoke ten languages and was renowned in her knowledge of Herbology and Potions. She achieved the highest ranking marks of Beauxbatons in her year. If one used her as a rubric for what his own wife should be modeled as it would take interviewing every pureblood witch in the world and then some. His perfectionist mother and father may _never_ find his perfect match, which admittedly suited Lucius, who rather liked haunting through thick blankets of fog than dancing and spending countless hours pretending to listen to suitors.

"Her eldest sister was in our year," Theo said, and Lucius shook himself from his thoughts, aware he had not been listening to him at all. "Bellatrix Black, you remember?"

"But she had black hair," Lucius remarked, "And so did the younger sister. Andromeda?"

Theo nodded. "Correct. Narcissa is the only blonde. Strange, don't you think?"

He knew very little of the Black sisters. They passed through one another in their circles. He danced with Bellatrix during ballroom dances more times than he remembered. Lucius felt like most of the festivities were blurs for him which he spent repeating the steps with rigid perfection that his dance instructor had forced onto him until the steps and motions were instinct, and he let his mind wander through the rest. He could have seen the youngest of the Blacks before, could have danced with her numerous times over the years, and Lucius knew he had never really seen her before until the moment he looked upon at her window.

By the time they were through the thick of woods which straddled the Zabini and Black property line, it was pouring rain and neither of them could see well or hear one another through the torrential sheets of freezing water. Lucius took Theo by the wrist and pulled him up a hill. They clambered over slick grey stones as they made their way to higher ground, scrabbling. He tried to shout to Theo, but his voice was lost in the rain and the wind. The fog was swirling out of cadence as the rain obliterated their view, and when they finally made it to the top of the hill, they realized they must have been at quite a high peak in the woods.

They found a very large tree and slipped beneath it to rest. The leaves were spread so thick that the rain could not reach them, and they rested their backs against the trunk of the tree. The sweet smell of sap reached him, and dried pine needles clung to their clothing. Lucius slung his wet over his shoulder and twisted it, allowing the water contained within the strands to drain out onto the ground beside him.

"What an adventure!" Theo exclaimed, "There is never a dull moment with you, Lucius."

"I cannot take credit for the rain," he remarked passively.

Theo crossed his legs and dried his clothing with his wand, though Lucius thought it was done in vain. Still, Lucius dried his hair and clothes himself, if nothing more than it was something to do while they waited out the rain.

Twenty minutes later, the rain reduced to a small sprinkle that they could manage, and they made the rest of the journey back to the Zabini mansion. They dried themselves again before they opened the back door from the garden and wound up the stairs to a lounge that Candra's parents had designed for their children to spend leisure time in. Candra was there with a tray of sweets and a radio, listening to a Quidditch match. When the young men burst through the door, he gave a great shout from fear and leaped up from his seat. Upon taking in the sight of them, he relaxed and glared at them.

"You idiots missed most of the game," he announced, cracking each knuckle on his hands, as he folded himself back onto the couch.

Lucius and Theo exchanged amused glances. "Yes, the most richly fascinating thing in all of the world is Quidditch," Lucius retorted, "The preoccupation the magical community has on it, I will never understand—"

"Just because you're a pompous intellectual incapable of exerting any physical ability," Candra interrupted, "Does not mean you are allowed to judge the rest of us for enjoying the sport. Which does, as a matter of fact, possess depth and qualities you don't understand."

"I could play Quidditch," Lucius argued, "How difficult _is_ it, really?"

Candra played on the Slytherin Quidditch team through Hogwarts, and while he did not move on to become professional, it was not for lack of skill. He was a Beater, a very good one, and during a recreational game with friends (excluding Theo and Lucius) he took a particularly nasty Bludger to his back, and while the Healers had done their best, it never healed quite right and hurt often, keeping him from playing for any length of time. He described the pain as knots of cartilage in his lower spine, which he sometimes went to have massaged for particularly painful bouts of it. Now it seemed to be responsible for also causing his migraines.

"You could not play Quidditch, Malfoy," Candra replied flatly, as he stretched his legs out upon the table in front of him. "Stick to your leaf drawings. You're far better at those."

Lucius glared at him as he took a seat at a drafting table and procured his journal from his pocket and placed it upon the surface. He opened the thin pages to the tree he had been sketching earlier. Theo turned the radio upon and laid out across one of the other couches that Candra was not occupying, and he was lulled to sleep by the rhythmic sounds of the announcer and cries and shouts of the stands. Or perhaps he was merely exhausted from the rain and the walking, but regardless of reason, he soon plucked his glasses from his face, folded them onto the table near Candra's sock-covered feet, and rolled onto his side to sleep.

Sometime later in the evening when Theo woke, Candra decided that they should journey to a pub. The game was over, and clearly it had not gone the way he wanted it to, for a vein in his forehead was continually throbbing. All three men Apparated outside of The White Wyvern, which was indistinguishable from any ordinary pub except for the patrons that sought it out were generally purebloods.

It was a small, cramped room with deep wooden accents and stone walls. A hearth was opposite of the bar across the room, and in between were various high tables and booths. A makeshift dance floor was on the far right in front of a raised platform, where a wizard sat playing bagpipes. Swinging lanterns above them cast a warm glow of light across the room and the fire was over warm, casting condensation all along the tiny square panes of glass of each window.

Lucius had never seen any young women from their society in a pub, and in fact, he was certain the only time he had ever witnessed such a thing was The Leaky Cauldron, usually with their families at lunch during their back to school shopping. But tonight, there were multitudes of women with their newly minted husbands. This was perhaps newfound freedom for them, as unmarried women would not be seen here lest they face serious scorn. Some faces he thought he recognized, and the finery of their robes and gowns suggested that they were pureblood witches.

Lucius and Theo sat at a table while Candra ordered a pint from the bar. Lucius unclasped his cloak from his throat and draped it down the back of his chair. Candra returned with several glasses and a pitcher full of beer, and Theo poured the contents into the cold glasses. Candra opened a thin metal case from his pocket containing thin cigars (cigarillos, he had heard him call them) and he passed them around as he took a deck of cards from a nearby table and started to shuffle them.

"We could have drunk and played cards at _your_ home," Lucius commented lightly, as he pressed the tip of his wand to the cigarillo and inhaled as the flame struck and smoke entered his lungs.

Candra rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but there are no birds there 'cept my mum."

"These women are married," Theo acknowledged, raising his eyebrow.

"None of you know how to have fun!" Candra snapped, "Logic doesn't apply here, mates. They're beautiful women, drinking in public and dancing, shedding one of the two thousand layers of social etiquette. Revel in the disobedience, gents, you'll never have these moments of freedom after you're saddled with some sap of a woman who plays pianoforte and sews pillows, all while wearing a corset and pouring your tea."

"Not sure if I should be impressed by these saps of women," Theo said, "Or frightened by their ability to multitask."

Lucius laughed, a sharp of a sound that came out of him unexpectedly, and he understood what Candra meant by pressing the importance of a change of scenery. It was nice to place oneself into a different environment. It was like he could wear a different skin when he moved from forest to house to pub, each a different version of him that was valid and true but separate from each other.

"Both," Lucius said, "Always both."

They drank late into the night until they felt lighter and freer than before. The night became an intangible blur. Lucius, spinning a woman around the dance floor with a cigarillo in one hand, Candra roaring with laughter and smashing his fist against the table at the sight of them. Only to realize that it was not a woman at all, but Lucius was turning a coat rack in his arms instead of by the front door. Upon realization, he was doubled over in laughter.

A barman crossed over to him and clamped a silver bracelet onto each of their wrists, which they were too drunk to discover how to remove.

"No Apparating, now, young masters," he said, "For your own good."

But they drank more and forgot about the indignation of the bracelets, and soon they were howling at a particularly innocuous thing that seemed funny at the time, but one Lucius would never remember. They played cards unsuccessfully, and Lucius magicked them to scatter and explode all over the room, sending Theo reeling against the table. It was late into the early, dark hours of the morning when the barman kicked them out, and they ran down the alley. Candra stripped himself of his robes and ran, screaming, down the main street of Knockturn Alley and Lucius and Theo dissolved into frantic laughter, running the opposite direction.

They stopped to catch their breath in an alley between a potions shop and a ticket shop for betting, and Lucius leaned against the slick, wet stone building and inhaled, taking the sobering cold air into his lungs.

Theo was watching him, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused. Lucius sighed heavily. His throat and chest were hurting from smoking too much. He was at a peak of almost uncomfortable drunkenness, where his limbs felt overly heavy for his body, but his mind was still unbalanced and swirling.

"Can you imagine," Lucius started to say, though he had no notion of what he intended to say.

And anyway, he didn't have the time to, because just as he was trying to collect what he wanted to say, Theo leaned in him kissed him, his expression one of innocent curiosity mingled amidst the blurry look of inebriation.

Lucius had no objections and kissed him back earnestly. Theo leaned his body into Lucius's and captured his mouth deeply, one hand curved along his jaw. Lucius groaned and slid his hands up Theo's chest, his thoughts a jumble of lust and pent up frustration. Pureblood men were not as reined in by rules of civility regarding their virginity, but no pureblood witch of their society would dare sleep with them without a promised, socially recognized engagement, and so despite the men's freedom, they scarcely got much relief unless they strayed from pureblood women, of which many did. Since Lucius was unwilling, he spent a good deal of his time in the middle of the night stroking himself beneath the layers of his blanket and bringing himself relief from the constant dreaded feeling of lust he held contained inside of himself.

There was a loud commotion from the end of the alleyway, and they jumped apart from one another.

Theo and Lucius quickly fixed their appearance and walked back up the alley, unsteady and drunk. They heard a loud pop of someone Apparating away. As they came near to the main street of Knockturn Alley, Lucius stepped into a bit of water, splashing it across his shoes and trailing his cloak end through it. He thought nothing of it until he tripped over an object on the ground he had not noticed, and he righted himself before falling. He turned around to see what he had tripped over, illuminating the tip of his wand, and then the breath went out of him.

There on the cold ground was the body of a young pureblood witch with her throat slit, blood spilling out of her, curling around the edges of the stone and draining down the alley. The water Lucius had stepped in was a pool of her blood. Her cloak bore a family coat of arms he didn't recognize.

Theo back to the pub to get help. Lucius stared in silent shock, trying to still his body from what he had just done and what he was seeing. He reacted involuntarily and walked a few feet from the girl and vomited up the contents of his stomach, the euphoria of the alcohol finally overwhelming his body.

He heard footsteps and someone swung around the alley and latched onto him. He yelped as a body shoved him into a wall and held him up. His back slammed into the stonewall and the air went out of his lungs and left him gasping.

"Anyone asks," Candra hissed into his ear, "I was with you the whole time. Got it?"

He released Lucius and he slid against the wall, his head spinning. "Yeah," he agreed easily, without thought to why Candra would even ask him that.

The long night continued a miserable stretch of time. Ministry officials arrived and arrested the three of them, twisting their arms back behind their arms with magic ropes that twisted tightly against their wrists. They took their wands and took them back to a lower chamber of the ministry in a holding cell, prior to transferring them to Azkaban, where they would remain until they questioned them.

"Candra asked me to say he was with us the whole time," Lucius muttered quietly under his breath to Theo.

They were sharing a bench by themselves. Candra was demanding his father.

Theo looked at Candra and then gave Lucius a sharp look. "But he wasn't."

They were interrupted by a loud swing of slamming doors and a scurrying of commotion. The intimidating figures of their fathers came around the corner. Abraxas Malfoy took the lead, holding his dragonskin gloves delicately in one hand, his elegant cloak swirling around the floor. Unlike the other two fathers, he did not look particularly cross to have been woken in the middle of the night. He was too careful and charismatic to let anger get the best of him.

"You have arrested my son," Abraxas remarked, as the Ministry wizard unlocked the series of cell locks, "You were going to place him in _Azkaban_ for reporting a murder? He's not a commoner, he's a _Malfoy_, a name which clearly means nothing to the likes of you. I'll speak with the Minister about this incident, to be sure…"

His voice was cold and cutting, the tone he used when he knew he needed to press his will onto someone else. Abraxas swept into the holding cell with Theo and Candra's father. The officer waved his wand and the ropes binding their wrists behind their backs disappeared.

"It's four o'clock in the morning, boys," Mr. Malfoy announced, "Do you have any idea how worried your mothers are?"

"Sir, please, we should question them first," the Ministry official argued, "They need to stay here until we have administered Veritaserum at least. You're impeding on official ministry business."

"The word of a gentleman is always _true_," Mr. Malfoy snapped, "That you can be assured. You will not poison my son. I'll take this investigation matter up to your superior. Come, boys, I think a good deal of rest is required."

"Sir," the wizard protested, "A young witch was murdered tonight. One of your Sacred members. If they know anything that could help—"

Mr. Malfoy paused in the middle of the door and turned his head. "These boys had too much to drink at a pub and went out for a walk for fresh air and to sober up, where they stumbled upon the poor wretch's body and did the responsible thing. You would punish them for it? I _think_ not."

He placed an authoritative arm on Lucius's shoulder and led him from the room. The other men and their fathers followed behind them as they all collected into the lift.

"Too much to drink, eh, boys?" Mr. Nott asked, squeezing Theo's cheek affectionately. "I have many memories of doing such a thing at the White Wyvern myself."

"I don't see why you couldn't have played cards at the house," Mr. Zabini remarked, his voice simpering, "There were plenty of drinks there to indulge as well."

Abraxas laughed lightly. "That is not nearly as entertaining. Drinking is a social act, no doubt."

The three families parted ways once they reached the darkened atrium of the Ministry. Abraxas chose the Floo Network as a preferred route, and Lucius was abundantly aware that he may have chosen it just to torture Lucius, as he retched upon falling from the fireplace of his father's study. His father chuckled lightly and took his cloak off, hanging it up on the hook by his door. Then he sent Lucius to bed after placing a vial of tonic in his hand for the hangover he would no doubt feel the next morning.

In the early hours of sunlight, he woke, feeling first the blinding and stabbing agony of a headache. His limbs were heavy and pained. His back was aching. He reached for the vial on his end table and downed the contents entirely, unconcerned of the correct dosage, though it was so small he thought it must have been a single dose.

His room was a high ceiling room with aged grey floral wallpaper an ancestor had brought from France and papered themselves. Warm hued dentil molding made of mahogany trailed along the upper and lower edges of the walls. One half of his room was covered in built-in bookshelves, six of them in fact, all floor to ceiling eight-shelf bookcases, which were evenly filled. Plants dotted every other surface in his room, particularly several were stacked on the windowsills on the wide paned windows that faced the south gardens. He had his own balcony too, which sported many other pots of plants. There was a large desk in the center of his room and a drafting table in the corner for his drawing. He also had two oversized and handsome chairs near his bookshelves for reading, with a table in between them, and a fireplace, which was sparking merrily with an early fire.

His head stopped spinning enough that he could touch his feet to the cold stone floor and slip a robe over his body. Twisting it off at his waist, he wandered out of his room to the main bathroom chamber. His parents stayed on the second floor, and he the third, so he was alone in the use of this wing of the house almost entirely. Some of the bedrooms had been magicked shut, and he had never been able to pry them open. No spells seemed to work to undo them.

He ran a bath and floated through the water, choosing to forgo the heavy use of perfumes and oils, as he thought they might entice his head to ache. It was now a low throbbing that disappeared as time went on. When he finished, he let his hair dry naturally after toweling through it, and he dressed quickly and went downstairs to the smaller dining room, where they usually had breakfast and lunch or had afternoon tea on occasion with visitors. The dining hall was reserved for massive groups of people, the entire community could fit in it if needed.

Both of his parents were already seated at the table reading separate papers. His father fancied _The Daily Prophet_, like most magical folk, but his mother read _Witch's Weekly_ for most of her news sources and in particular, she preferred their gossip column. They had a specific section on the Sacred Twenty-Eight so that each family could keep up with the news, though anyone who was anyone would have already had previous knowledge of the engagements and childbirths.

"Ah, there you are," Mr. Malfoy announced, folding his paper by his plate, "We nearly thought you would sleep through breakfast."

Lucius sat across from his mother. His father took his natural seat at the front, though when he was absent, he and his mother traded off sitting there. He avoided the heavy sausages, bacon, and gravy, and instead plucked a piece of toast and spread a soft, very thin layer of bergamot marmalade over the bread. He poured a cup of coffee before he spoke up.

"I think I should have," Lucius muttered.

Both of his parents chuckled and shook their heads. Lucius took a bite of toast and read the front cover of the _Witch's Weekly_ magazine that his mother was holding.

"Is that the girl we found last night, Mum?" he asked, gesturing to the cover.

"Oh yes," she remarked, twisting it around so that she could read it. "Scarlet Greengrass, she was in your year, did you know her?"

"No," Lucius replied, but he also knew that he could have spoken to her and not remembered. There was no doubt in his mind that he probably danced with her many times, but as he thought, the only girl that stuck out in his mind was Narcissa Black in the window.

Abraxas shuffled his paper to look at the front cover himself. "Tragic thing, she was so young."

"Her parents filed for divorce," Mrs. Malfoy said, "Unheard of in our community. They are calling her death suspicious, but I have no doubt they should consider the possibility it was suicide. A young unmarried girl, beautiful as she was, ruined by her parents' distasteful acts?"

Lucius never knew a single-family to divorce. He knew there were companions who hated one another, peers of his whose parents slept in separate beds or were loath to spend any time together, but they did not separate. One broke a contract that way, not only with one another but with the society as a whole. A divorce could spark a heated argument, a rivalry for generations. It just wasn't done.

"Mum, what do you know much about the Black family?" he asked.

She glanced up and looked at him curiously. "The Black family? They have had a few unscrupulous family members, blood traitors, on Orion and Walburga's side in London. I've heard their boy Sirius is wild as ever, entreating himself to live with the Potters now. It's very embarrassing. But Druella's girls are very fine indeed. Not at all like Sirius."

"The ones from Somerset?" he suggested.

"Yes," Mrs. Malfoy responded easily, "Drue has three daughters. Such handsome names, but I always forget them—ah, there's Bella, Andy, and Cissy."

"Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa," Abraxas said, flourishing their full names with poise.

His mother nodded. "Yes, that's right. Druella and I meet with some of the other wives in the area for our book club. Why do you ask?"

Lucius recounted the story of Theo's misdirection that led them onto the Black property. He ascertained that they went to the front door, but the curtains were drawn, and that later he saw the youngest girl from the window reading.

"I was only wondering if I needed to send a letter," Lucius said, "To apologize for intruding."

"I shouldn't think that is necessary," his mother said, "The family was having dinner with the Lestrange's last night, but Druella mentioned that Cissy was ill, so she had perhaps stayed behind to recover. I doubt she noticed you and Theodore."

He nodded his head quietly. Abraxas shuffled his paper again and turned his keen eyes upon him.

"Have you seen her up close?" he asked, "This Narcissa?"

Lucius shook his head. Abraxas nodded to himself and went back to the paper.

"Ophelia, perhaps you should extend an invitation to the family for dinner," he said, "Lucius can explain the accidental trespassing to them. We can better acquaint with them. Cygnus is a very powerful man in the Ministry, he's on the Wizengamot court."

It was decided then. After breakfast, his mother sent an owl with the invitation for the Black family. His father moved back to the study, and he was left alone. He slipped his cloak on and wandered through the gardens for a while, drifting through the soft mist of rain that fell on his shoulders and down his cloak, until his mother grew worried and ushered him back inside so that he did not catch a cold.


	2. Chapter 2

"We should delight in it," Mrs. Malfoy said, "That our son expressed even the simplest interest in a young lady at last."

But the usually gentle candor of Abraxas Malfoy was rife with worry as he said, "Lucius is shy, we should be cautious in case we overexcite him."

Lucius turned and went back down the corridor, holding a dreaded sigh in his chest until he was far enough away to have not been heard, and then he did so, a frustrated sigh elicited from his chest and up to his throat, and he rolled his eyes. He kicked mildly at the stone wall nearest the kitchens where no one but the house elves might notice, but they knew well enough not to bother him.

Mrs. Black had written back in haste and with regret that they had other plans and would be detained a little over a month in London with their extended family, and the earliest they could meet was at the ball the Malfoy's hosted in the late fall. His mother suggested it prudent to go to London to make their specific acquaintance, but his father disagreed. No doubt, his mother had not chiefly expressed the reason for the invitation, and so Mrs. Black felt no pressure to alter their plans. Had she expressed that Lucius wanted to marry Narcissa, he would have been mortified. For one, he knew only of her faint visage through a cheerfully bright window in afternoon fog. He could not recall in his mind her voice, interests, or social demeanor at all. He could not even place her in the Slytherin Common Room, surrounded by a bunch of laughing girls or otherwise.

She was a ghost in his memory, someone he had without justification or provocation, completely missed in his social upbringing. Even though he paid little attention to his suitors or the companionable women he danced with, he thought he could at least notice them with little identification. He was sure he had danced with Andromeda and Bellatrix Black over the years, and after Theo ascertained what year the eldest sister was in relation to their own, he was quite certain he remembered her at Hogwarts too, but with Narcissa he was at a loss. It was this that enticed him to ask after her, a mere curiosity had claimed his thoughts in the interests of the lady, not infatuation, which his parents misconstrued.

It proved best that the Blacks did not come around for dinner, for the evening _Prophet _headline was dreadful. His name was printed in large blocky letters in the headline, along with Theo and Candra, that they were the main suspects in the murder of Scarlet Greengrass. No sooner had it arrived than Aurors were calling at the front gate, and Mr. Malfoy walked them through the driveway and into the house to question him.

There were three men who called upon the family just after dinner. Lucius had been reading on the couch next to his mother, who was working fastidiously on her embroidery, while his father sat behind them writing a letter. When they arrived outside the gate, the bell which rang through the house to alert them went off, and his father left the room in a hurry to greet them.

The men gathered themselves around the fireplace for warmth and Mr. Malfoy drew them comfortable chairs up from another room in the house with a quick flash of his wand, and they settled and positioned themselves to face Lucius, who had only just deposited his book onto the table to greet them before they were speaking:

"Lucius Malfoy, we are here on considerably important business regarding the investigation of Scarlet Greengrass, whom as you know and reported, was found dead in Knockturn Alley," the first Auror said gruffly, "Since you declined to give a statement at the Ministry, we have no other choice but to see you here, in the comfort of your home. We should speak to you alone so that we can gather your testimony to the best of our ability."

"Nonsense," Mr. Malfoy interjected, as he crossed his arms, "My son will not be left alone with you to be coerced into confession. No doubt, sirs, you have seen the evening paper, where you have smeared our good name, without evidence or proof? You expect me to believe this is news? My son has not been convicted of a crime at all, yet socially, he has been burned for it already."

The Aurors were not patient and lacked the civilities of gentlemen, so their anger and impatience were openly expressed upon their faces. First, Lucius believed he was right in assuming that what they wanted, more than to coerce him into confession, was a moment of peace from the ranting and raving of his father. Second, he thought the sole purpose his father was so obstinately discussing his son's innocence was that he did not trust Lucius enough to not perjure himself and his name in an effort to absolve himself of the crime, of which he had no motive or reason to commit.

"Mr. Malfoy, you are, I hate to say, the most classless and tactless man I have ever met!" the Auror, the only one whom had dared speak so far said, "And it is your bursting pride and selfishness that spawns the hateful things you say to men who are merely here to do their duty. Your son may have seen or heard something that could very well change the entire scope of the investigation, if only you will allow him to speak!"

Most turned red in anger, their necks and cheeks flushing, their eyes flashing dangerously. But Mr. Malfoy had the opposite effect; the angrier he became, the softer he appeared, his face drawn, taught, and pale. Only his eyes, which turned an unbearably cold grey, were of an indication of the rage swimming beneath the surface of his emotions.

"I am a gentleman amongst friends," Mr. Malfoy remarked, "A tireless man, lively in the pursuit of arts and politics, selfless with my devotion to kindness and the love for my family. I am the perfect gentleman to people of my status and to those below it if they have class. You have neither the status nor the class to make up for the former. You're a wretched little Mudblood, and if you speak ill of me once more, I'll have you thrown from my house!"

At the word "Mudblood", Mrs. Malfoy flinched, for she despised foul language more than anything else. She sat up suddenly and gathered her belongings.

"This," she murmured tactfully, "Is no conversation for a lady."

And she left at once, her sodden angry fueled deep within her, and Lucius knew that his father would be reeling from his behavior later on when she finally decided to lash out at him. In France, where his mother originated, (and she was admittedly a distant cousin of his father) the word "Mudblood" was never used. Though the prejudice existed in their society, it was thought that pureblood families ought to have more taste and class than to berate those beneath them with that sort of hateful language.

Her quitting the room removed the tension of it too, and the Aurors decided against fixating on Mr. Malfoy, who paced along the back end of the couch with his arms crossed and his jaw set.

"Lucius Malfoy," the second Auror spoke up now, as the first was drawn into himself in rage, "Please, walk us through the events you can remember of the day Scarlet Greengrass died. Why did you go to Knockturn Alley?"

He did not look to his father for approval to answer, merely cleared his throat and began to dictate somewhat shyly, with as much detail as he could, the events of yesterday evening.

"Candra Zabini suggested we go to the White Wyvern pub to drink and play cards," he said, "Theodore Nott and I were visiting him. We went to the pub and drank beer, nothing out of the ordinary, and played cards, as I said before."

"Can anyone verify your whereabouts?" the Auror asked.

"Yes, anyone who was there," Lucius remarked, "The bartender applied Anti-Apparating bracelets upon our wrists when we'd had too many, so we didn't splinch ourselves, I imagine, but we left the pub to sober up. Candra stripped his clothes off and ran ahead of us, and Theo and I followed down an alley."

"He stripped his clothes off?" the Auror asked, snorting with laughter.

"Yes," Lucius replied, "He was very drunk, I don't think he would have otherwise. Besides, there was no one else in the street."

"Are you sure?"

Lucius shook his head. "No, I cannot be, I was very inebriated. I drank too much with friends, sir, but I did not hurt anyone."

"How did you come upon the body?" the Auror asked.

"The three of us walked up the alley," he replied.

"Did something alert you?" the Auror asked, "Why did you go down the alley and then turn around?"

"There was a noise," Lucius replied, after several moments of consideration, "Someone Apparated, I think."

The three Aurors exchanged glances, though he did not know what that meant. "Were you well acquainted with the victim, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Not at all," Lucius replied, "I don't even remember speaking to her."

"Curious," an Auror said, with a cruel smile, "We have reason to believe otherwise."

It was then that Mr. Malfoy interjected, and his harsh voice startled Lucius, who was leaning into the armrest of the couch and feeling anxious. "You cannot suppose the word of a gentleman is untrue. He says he does not know her."

"Her diary is incredibly articulate and accounts for every night she attended functions in your society," the Auror announced, and he produced from an inner pocket of his cloak a worn black leather journal, which he opened and handed to Lucius to review.

In girlish, swirling handwriting, he saw the names of each man she danced with and which event it occurred, as far back as two years. Beneath each name was a small indication of what they discussed. It appeared, when she liked the men she corresponded with, she wrote at length of her night with them. They were not all men, of course, she also tallied her new friendships with women and social events and callings she had with them, and like most would use a diary, used the journal daily as a place to divulge her feelings.

His name was frequent, and she wrote at length about him in the year prior to her death, though as he flipped through, he saw that her reports of him diminished as her crush faded, and she moved on to someone else. The most striking thing was that he did not recall most of the moments she found significant:

_Danced with Lucius Malfoy three times. He was charming as ever and asked me about my sister and my family, where we were planning on staying over the summer, and inquired how long it took to fix the ribbons on my dress. I did not have the opportunity to ask him much about his own life, because Pearl Parkinson was next on his card, and we were interrupted two other times by girls coming directly to him to ask for dances._

_If anyone in Wiltshire was charming as dear Lucius, I would be struck dead! As he passed by me this evening, I asked if he would make room for me to dance since my card was nearly full, and he obliged so politely and enthusiastically that I dare to believe he was looking forward to it all along! And he even lightly touched my arm as he did pass by!_

_Danced with my dear Lucius at the Zabini's. He was more distant this time and distracted. When I asked him what the matter was, he mentioned the weather again. I assume this means something deeply personal happened that he could not trust my confidence with. How I long to know what goes on in his brilliant mind!_

_Lucius skipped dancing and stood outside with his father and his father's friends. We did pass one another late in the evening and he obliged me with the last dance of the night. We did not talk. Whatever hangs heavy on his conscious must be great indeed._

_L spent nearly half the dances entertaining other ladies and did not seek me out at all. I do not know what to think._

The accounts went on like this, and Lucius was embarrassed to see that she had become frustrated that he always seemed to ask her vague questions and never told her anything about himself or his interests, though it became plain she wanted to know more about him. Not only did she detail every awkward thing he did, but she wrote a length about her emotions surrounding his actions, such as one particular entry:

_Dear Diary,_

_I should have presumed that a man of Mr. Malfoy's status would not lend himself easily to my alluring qualities. With the help of my sister, we conspired it perfectly that I would sit next to him at dinner. Twice, I gently pressed my fingers to his wrists to flirt. I inclined my head, laughed when he spoke, and tried to express to him that though my name is lower in the hierarchy of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, I was not so unruly as the Black sisters, who are somehow fit to be queens at the top, while I languish near the bottom. Mother agrees that a marriage between us would most handsomely suit both families, but I find it exceedingly difficult to get him to notice anything, let alone me, at all. He floats around social activities, barely making eye contact or taking notice of his surroundings and makes it quite clear that he scarcely focuses on anyone for long. What I thought was him warming to my presence was perfect indifference and cold civility._

_The only solace he seems to take in these events is when he is caught up in conversation with one of his gentlemen friends. Quite surprisingly, I came upon him animatedly discussing Herbology with Rodolphus Lestrange, and so ascertained from that small eavesdropping that he might like the subject. But when _I_ brought it up at dinner later that evening, Lucius asked me again about my ribbons! He is either obsessed with ribbons or believes women are not capable of another subject._

_Oh, but he is polite, just, and true as a gentleman in his candor! His soul is as light as his fair hair, which mother says he has let grow too long, but I think it is becoming. Should I find a way to delight him in conversation, I am sure I would be Mrs. Malfoy at once, but I doubt it very much that I am capable of holding his attention for more than a few fleeting moments, and so I am resigned to find another gentleman. The woman who actually gains his attention and thereby affection will have to be a woman of either impeccable taste or no taste at all, thereby shocking his system with either extreme. For me, this has been an overly taxing ambition I no longer wish to battle, for I feel each night I've swum upstream trying to get him to notice me. His friend, Theodore Nott, is almost as handsome and easy to distract. I think he might do._

_SG_

Mr. Malfoy was reading, hovering up against his son's shoulder so closely he could hear him breathing.

"This reflects nothing undo about my son," he announced flatly, stretching his back. He pressed his hands firmly against the back of the couch. "Only that he is a poor conversationalist in rooms with great distraction."

"But this journal proves, against his statement, that he knew Miss Greengrass," the Auror replied coolly.

"A journal from an infatuated young woman who sought marriage above her station!" Mr. Malfoy retorted, "She wrote about him with great excitement until the end when she realized he did not hold the same affections as she and she quit him. The evidence you procure of the victim even states that Lucius did not know her."

"I don't remember speaking to her," Lucius added quietly, "Despite the many entries in which she did. I am sure there are journals belonging to many ladies which have my name in them—to be sure, I would have asked customary questions, but there are so numerous dance partners, interviews—"

"My son is chiefly the most eligible bachelor in Britain," Mr. Malfoy interrupted, "What he means to say is that there are so numerous women who wish for his hand that, after years of pursuit, he can no longer catalog every interaction he has with them. It would be impossible. The women in this generation far outnumber the gentlemen; marriage is of the utmost importance to any of them. They are vultures."

The Aurors exchanged skeptical glances. "What a rich life to lead," one said, whom Mr. Malfoy had called a Mudblood, "To be so young and yet so pursued by so many women."

The three of them laughed at the joke, but Mr. Malfoy was incensed by it. He seized the moment when their frivolity died and said, "My son is a victim of this society! It is not his fault he is exceedingly wealthy, born from high standard and class, and remains to be highly sought after. That you wish to demoralize his character will not be tolerated. He and his friends drank too much in error and do not recall every event that unfolded in the night, but they were sober enough to report the crime they came upon as good gentlemen ought to have! This injustice is an outrage!"

"Many adjectives you have applied to your son are true," the Auror said sternly, "But a victim he is not. Scarlet Greengrass is the victim, Mr. Malfoy. She is the one who is dead."

Another Auror spoke up at once, "And your son refuses to supply all of the details necessary to prove his innocence. We requested Veritaserum, which might help uncover the truth, but you have repeatedly denied—"

Mr. Malfoy exploded into a long rant, spilling from him decrees of laws supplied for pureblood men, allowing them loopholes in the government. One particular law allowed a father to intervene on behalf of legal procedures the Ministry had against an unmarried son or daughter, of which the Aurors assured that Mr. Malfoy was well exercising his legal right to. The other was that no application of Veritaserum or curse could be used on unmarried purebloods, but this law applied only to the Sacred Twenty-Eight, thereby eliminating it for the lesser-known purebloods or blood traitors.

When he had exhausted his speech, his throat was raw and his voice hoarse, the Aurors spoke again, this time with less cadence, as it was clear every man in the room wanted to be done with the conversation.

"It is my understanding that this will be the official record of events from Lucius Malfoy," the Auror said, "Mr. Malfoy states that he went out with Theodore Nott and Candra Zabini to the White Wyvern pub on Knockturn Alley, with no supplied time of day, and proceeded to drink beer and play cards. The three of them became increasingly inebriated to the point that the bartender was concerned for their welfare and provided Anti-Apparition bracelets to their wrists. At some point in time not stated by Mr. Malfoy, the three went outside. Candra Zabini proceeded to remove his clothing and run down Knockturn Alley and Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Nott followed him. Mr. Malfoy supplies no reason or activity as they went down the alley, which did not connect to another street and is a dead end, and then they walked back up the alley after hearing someone Apparate."

Lucius did not respond and let his father affirm the details of his statement on his behalf, afraid that if he spoke, it might entice his father to rage again, and they might have to start all over. He thought of the alley and the statement itself, a woven lie considering he knew Candra had not been with them the entire time. And furthermore, he did not wish to expose his own actions nor Theo's. They had been very drunk, Lucius decided and suddenly passioned to kiss, but it was not something he would admit in public, and especially not when his father was standing directly behind him, already enraged by the fact that the Malfoy name was in any way negatively attached to a murder investigation.

The Aurors rose from their seats looking grim and dissatisfied. They produced a card with their office number to Lucius, begging he might supply additional details if it came to him, and they left quickly to avoid Mr. Malfoy, who was pacing again like a caged animal.

What came the next morning was worse than before. It seemed that the contents of the poor girl, Scarlet Greengrass, were published and with every entry containing Candra, Theo, or Lucius highlighted, including specifically embarrassing traits of Lucius and the improper etiquette Miss Greengrass described him as having.

Lucius was now convinced the Ministry was submitting their findings to the journalists to force them to act, but Lucius was quite certain he would rather be tied to a murder investigation, of which he could not be truly convicted as he had not committed a crime, than to be publicly shamed for the true act he committed in the alley, which would thus ruin not only his chances at marriage but be the folly of his best friend's prospects as well. It was embarrassing to think about that night when in a frenzy, the two of them kissed, but it pained Lucius more to think of what would happen if it were made public.

Additionally, the journal contained worthwhile gossip of possible affairs. Scarlet criticized the marriages of their parents' generation and blackened the doorstep of nearly every home in her entries. She wrote in detail any sleight of hand or eye contact she observed, or conversations she heard in small pieces or out of context, thus polarizing the entire society. In fact, no one was particularly safe from her inflamed, sometimes vicious accounts of history. She wrote in-depth of her jealousy against the Black sisters, particular Bellatrix, who seemed to vex her personally. She called Narcissa Black a "particularly scathing, ill-mannered, and loathsome witch" and suggested that Narcissa was a bastard child and unfit of the Black name and notoriety. And those were the nicest of endearments she gave the three daughters, whom Lucius could surmise had done nothing to have such poor things said about them.

"The only thing this proves," Theodore Nott said, as they sat around the table at Malfoy manor with his family and all of the Zabini's, "Is that Miss Greengrass presumably had many enemies, and we three happened to be crushes of her daydreams. It is mere coincidence that we were the ones that found her. I feel that _everyone_ who she had ever interacted with should be seen as suspect as gossip seemed to be her favored trade."

"Here, here," many at the table cried, but Lucius remained contemplative and quiet, and said nothing over dinner.

For he read the rest of the journal entries in _Witch's Weekly_, which published the journal fully and unedited. There were so many pages they dedicated a special edition to it, and Lucius had purchased it to peruse it. What shocked him was her decision and vicious nature in regard to her society. She hated each of them so richly unless of course, she loved them dearly. There were thirteen men in two years which she fancied, some of them were even properly married and with children. Some were the men that worked with her father, and she spent some time with them around the house if there was little work to be done that day, or if they were staying for socialization. She reported nothing improper, but Scarlet was clearly a manipulative flirt who desired the satisfaction of marrying rich above all, and none of her targets were worth less than an extraordinary amount.

At first, it stunned Lucius to think that these entries were the inner workings of a girl whom he presumed so normal as to not notice her at all at parties, and if her thoughts might be so violent and cruel, he balked at the thoughts of other women in her station. He had never heard his mother speak ill of anyone, in fact, she held most people in her heart with great esteem, and she almost always believed in the good inside people. Contrasting her with Scarlet confused him; he could not identify which version of womanhood was correct and true, and which one was more manipulation.

The other reason he remained quiet was that Theo seemed very changed around him. He had sat across from him, sure, but never met his eyes. Lucius was certain he was embarrassed, but he also wished in vain that he did not think he had told the Aurors what they were doing in the alley on the night she died.

When dinner was over, he pulled Theo aside and invited him outside to the south garden veranda. It was so cold that no one bothered to follow them, and he exchanged a cigarillo with him and lit them both with his wand, and then said:

"I can't help but feel you have been avoiding me," Lucius said, struck again by the way Theo shrank from him.

Theo pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and finally met his eyes. "I am sorry. I shouldn't be cruel. I am just incredibly embarrassed—"

"Say nothing of it," Lucius interrupted, "It was a passing moment between friends. I said nothing of it to the Aurors and will never tell a soul, I swear it on my friendship."

"Your loyalty is amazing," Theo replied.

This defused the tension between them, though both still seemed entirely nervous and too cold to be standing outside in the pitch-black darkness, with the only light coming in from the warmth of the manor and the ends of their cigarillos.

Lucius tossed the cigarillo off into the garden when he had smoked all he could, and he stepped into the bend of light of the windows. In that small light, his hair was a shiny halo around his head, an object of angelic fancy that his best friend watched with a remarkable yearning he didn't understand, his fingers itching to touch the soft strands and crush them in between his fingers.

Despite their ability to converse now, it was no relief for Theodore, who had spent the days after Scarlet Greengrass's death agonizing over his sexuality rather than his imminent future. The kiss posed a slew of questions for Lucius too. For it had awakened in him the reminder of Scarlet and her journal entries, which frequently showed him ignoring the fairer sex in favor of gentlemen. He dismissed her and showed his rudeness by not listening to a thing she said, but he listened when men spoke to him.

Either he was horribly sexist, or he was latently homosexual, but neither of those words seemed to define him adequately. What he would find in the coming months was a definition, though that varied between person to person, and the true identity of Lucius Malfoy was considerably known to only a few people.

The first party he attended after the newspaper began printing about the murder was at the Rosier home, which Lucius was casually acquainted with their son, Evan Rosier, who graduated three years before him. Their manor was historic, an original from their journey to England in the 1060s, and they had made little renovations in the centuries after. The Malfoy manor was nearly unrecognizable to the handsome mansion it had originally been built to be when they moved from France, having made numerous and sizable expansions to it with each generation.

Lucius skived from the party shortly after dinner so that he could avoid dancing, and thereby eliminate the temptation some of the ladies might have had to question him about Scarlet Greengrass. Or worse, perhaps they wouldn't dance with him at all for fear he would slaughter them in front of everyone. Either outcome made Lucius decidedly anxious, so he escaped the main room by himself quietly and wandered up the stairs to the hallway. The private part of the Rosier life seemed unchanged from the public ones; he did not drift through any doors, but he did glance along the walls at the numerous portraits, some of whom had remained in their portraits, and others were gone to watch the dancers in the ballroom.

He stopped in front of a family photo with faces he recognized. It was the Black family, though taken quite a long time ago, as the daughters were not yet grown. Narcissa appeared to be five years old, clutching a small doll in her hand. Blonde curls spilled down her shoulders and back and her dress was light blue and very frilly. Lucius laughed at the sight of it, and watched the expressions of the family change slightly, choosing to instead regard him as though he wasn't there.

"That is my sister," a voice said behind him, and he turned his head.

A middle aged woman with dark hair and bright green eyes smiled. "Druella Black, I mean. She's a Rosier. That is her husband, Cygnus Black, and my three nieces, Narcissa, Andromeda, and Bellatrix appear to have walked out of frame. She does that."

Vinda Rosier was more beautiful than her sister, Druella, but scarcely so, as the entire family was blessed with good looks. Lucius felt his throat constrict to see her; she was beautiful in a way that pained people to see her. There was something exceptionally charming and effortless about her, and he wondered how long it took her to compose that aesthetic, or if it came naturally.

"I had no idea," he admitted.

Ms. Rosier nodded her head. "Oh yes, though I think my dear elder sister fits the Black family esteem better than even Cygnus does. She has always been a stickler for rules and propriety— 'Always pure' it defines her. I presume you know her daughters?"

"Only a little," he replied.

"Well," Ms. Rosier said, crossing the distance between them.

She wrapped her arm securely around his elbow and pulled him down the corridor.

"Bellatrix is the eldest, recently betrothed to Rodolphus Lestrange, as you should see in the paper this week," she told him, "She is an excellent dueler, I would not cross that one. Andromeda is bookish and good at domestic spells but think not that she is but a mere housewife, she's quite brilliant. And my _youngest_ little niece is but eighteen, but she has such a personality!"

Lucius smiled. "What sort of personality?"

Ms. Rosier nodded and smiled widely, exposing her bright teeth as she led him around the corridor and turned left. The floor wrapped around on itself, so they could walk in a full circle. "To be sure there is no finer young woman to acquaint yourself with, Mr. Malfoy unless you wish to speak to her equally fine sisters. Dearest Cissy is as witty as they come, and it is positively _criminal _how intelligent she masters her subjects with ease and grace."

"You seem very fond of your nieces," he remarked.

"Quite so," she said, "Having no husband or children myself, I delight in watching them grow."

The sad history of Ms. Rosier floated to him. She was highly connected to Grindelwald, a catastrophe of a man that came before Lucius's time, and her impropriety with him had nearly had her banished entirely, but her love and obsession rendered her unlikely to marry any man with any sense at all, and so she remained in their society as a maid, though this did not detract from her alluring senses and features.

"What are Narcissa's subjects?" Lucius asked.

The young woman was threatening to devour Lucius in curiosity, this seeming figure hovering just outside of his reach, whom he was growing steadily impatient for having not met such a woman as she had been described.

"Herbology and Potions mostly," Ms. Rosier announced, "But she is proficient in all required to become a Healer. She was licensed only this summer."

"She is working?" Lucius asked, shocked.

The women in their society did not work nor earn any sort of income. It was unheard of, but not necessarily against the rule so much as no one chose to engage with it. There were plenty of wives that donated some of their time to charity, but none would bother actively pursuing a career.

"Volunteering," Ms. Rosier corrected him gently, "But essentially, she is working! She began additional studies during her final year of Hogwarts. Frankly, I don't know how she found the time with N.E.W.T.S."

"Nor I," Lucius said, "I barely survived them."

To think that there existed a woman of good breeding and intellect as Narcissa Black made him all the more in awe of her. He only hoped she was true to life and that he would not be rendered entirely disappointed when he met her for the first time. Ms. Rosier discussed more of Bellatrix and Andromeda and their accomplishments equally, but Lucius thought of the youngest daughter while she spoke, and he was lost in his thoughts as they turned about the corridor again and Ms. Rosier took him down the stairs.

"I heard of your misfortune with the Greengrass girl," she said, as they walked down the stairs to the main foyer.

Music played loudly through the closed ballroom doors and Lucius suddenly wished she had not found him so that he would not be forced to return to the party. He cringed, despite his best efforts to hide his emotions when she mentioned Scarlet.

"Yes, it's a tragedy that she died," Lucius said, "Though, despite her journal entries, we were never more than casual acquaintances."

Ms. Rosier inclined her head. "Of course, Mr. Malfoy, I wasn't implying anything sinister. I merely meant to reflect that gentlemen, truly good ones, rarely escape unscathed by the sordid opinions of smaller people."

He wondered if she actually meant him, or if she were speaking of the gentleman of her past. Either way, he thanked her for the gesture of good faith. She opened the ballroom doors for him, and they passed through it. Mrs. Malfoy was nearest the entrance, and she scarcely concealed her surprise to see who was standing next to her son.

"Vinda," she said, lightly, moving over to them at once with a flute of wine in her hand, "I thank you for finding my son. He often wanders off at these sorts of things."

Ms. Rosier was all smiles. "I found him upstairs looking at our family portraits. I was boring him terribly, regaling him with tales of history, and of my sister and her daughters."

He watched his mother do small calculations of thought as she connected who Ms. Rosier's sister was, and when she had done so, she glanced at Lucius with muted curiosity. He had once more been caught inquiring about the Black family.

"Oh yes, Druella," she replied, "I know her. How is her extended family in London? She wrote to say her family was visiting for a while."

"Miserable, I imagine," Ms. Rosier remarked, "I don't know if you had heard, but Orion Black has been ill for some time—"

Lucius was pulled from their conversation by a woman who seized his arm suddenly. She dipped into a frantic curtsey and straightened her back. "Mr. Malfoy! Please, you have not danced at all this evening, allow me to be the first. I am Miss Pearl Parkinson; we have danced before—"

"It would be my pleasure," Lucius interrupted, taking her by the arm.

As the unmanned instruments rearranged to play the next song, he brought Miss Parkinson out to the dance floor. It was a simple waltz, one of the favorites of the ladies to dance, as it was one of the few where they were allowed more intimate conversation without the possibility of being overheard. He turned her around the dance floor fluidly as the violins began to play.

He was resolved to remember this encounter and take heed of every other dance and conversation he ever had, the effects of Scarlet's scathing remarks from the grave left him disgruntled. He realized too he might never find a wife with such a flippant attitude, so he determined he must make more of an effort.

Peal Parkinson was not the woman in which to start this newfound attentiveness, he found, as she was incredulously stupid and pugnacious, though she was quite a beauty. She was nearly as forward and unruly as her introduction to him had been. She talked at length of herself and her irritations in her home. Her sister was an ugly thief that stole her diamond hairpins, though she still had not found them after destroying her room in a frantic search.

When the music ended, it was the only salvation for him, and he nearly tore away from her and ran if he had the chance, but she was pulling on him again, and he heard her high pitched shriek of a giggle as she pulled open the ballroom doors and ripped him from the party.

"Miss Parkinson!" Lucius exclaimed.

She shoved him on the stairs and latched onto him, her mouth all over his. He thought first of the sharp pain radiating down his spine, so acute he thought she might have done real damage, and then of the sloppy way her lips fell over his, her tongue on his lips, which deposited a good deal of saliva across his mouth. Having had all he could of her, he gave her a good shove off of him, though not enough to send her toppling off of him. She took the hint and unlatched from him. In disgust, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve and stood up from the stairs. His back erupted in violent pain, and he gritted his teeth, tossed her a well-deserved glare, and left her in the corridor.

Lucius unabashedly hid outside in the courtyard on the east side of the house by himself, smoking and resting his back against the cold stone wall in an effort to appease the pain. Thrice he heard Miss Parkinson step outside and bellow his name, but he shrank into the shadows, pulling his cloak over his hair, to obscure himself from her. He did not return to the house until he heard the carriages arriving, and then he took the courtyard steps two at a time to the back doors, and he slipped through them into the ballroom looking windswept and flush from the cold.

He found his parents in the foyer. They stared at him very curiously at his appearance. Solemnly, his mother reached forward and grasped a stray leaf that had stuck in the strands of his hair and pulled it from his shoulders. He heard a loud, candid giggle behind him, which he knew to be Pearl's, and he ducked quickly out of the door and left his parents to catch up to him at the carriage.


	3. Chapter 3

A storm rolled through Wiltshire and thunder and lightning churned across the afternoon sky. Lucius watched it from a leather high back chair at the window in the parlour, with a book in his lap and a cigarillo in his hand. The ashtray floated by his side, instinctively moving to his hand when he needed to flick the ashes off the end. His focus on the book was long lost, and it had been an hour or more since he had last attempted to read any of it. The rain splashed across the front courtyard and driveway, and he listened to the pelt of rain on the roof and tried not to lull to sleep.

Everything held important to their society seemed lost on him; he wished he could disappear from it entirely and venture out somewhere, quite on his own, and never return to humanity. The older he became the more impatient and dissatisfied with the world he was. The more he saw of people, the less he wanted to interact with them and experience the seemingly constant disappointment of knowing them. The news spreading slanderous lies about him was enough to make him want to eject himself from society as a whole, but the ramifications were much worse. He grew agitated in the weeks after Scarlett Greengrass's death and began declining every social engagement that came his way.

The only one he could not dodge was the one his mother and father were hosting. It came that late autumn in November. The manor was scrubbed clean and dusted every day for a week in advance of the coming day. The house elves scrubbed and prepared for it over long, arduous hours until the day of, and then he scarcely saw them move outside of the kitchen except to run for the gardens or the orchards for ingredients.

"Lucius, I have told you many times not to smoke in the house," Mrs. Malfoy admonished, as she came into the room. "You'll ruin the art."

He took a final drag and pressed it out into the ashtray, then moved the tray to the table nearest him. His mother had no notion of being cross. In his entire life, she had always been calm and collected the very spirit of accommodating and compassionate. He thought it quite lucky to have been a relatively well-behaved child, as his father was not easily ruffled either. Neither of his parents ruled him with an iron thumb, causing small rumours over the years that Lucius was unyielding and wild, incapable of socializing or propriety. Perhaps they were right, he thought, having never been able to recall a single name of the ladies he danced with nor any conversation might he have had with them.

"Sorry," he said, notably lacking any sense of apology in his voice.

She was frightened by the quick way her son faded before her over the span of a few weeks. His hair grew longer below his shoulders and he no longer bothered securing it with a band, so it pooled around his face and down his chest like a shield to keep others from him. He lost weight, and the hollow of his cheeks and jawline was much more prominent and pointy. His pallor was quite white, as he scarcely drifted outside for exercise. The only thing he seemed to do was smoke, sit at the window, and sleep. In fact, his sleeping habits had increased so considerably there were days he did not journey from his bed at all. She thought the ball might liven his spirits, as everyone who would have usually attended accepted with the small exception of the Greengrass family, but they were in an appropriate mourning period and had reason to decline any social engagement.

The change in Lucius, she suspected, came from two weeks ago at a gathering at the Nott household. None of the women would acquiesce to add his name to their dancing card and most of them skirted him or stared at him furtively. The men of the party were not much different, so unabashedly staring at the three young men. Despite having never had a trial, all three of them seemed condemned for it. Lucius had taken the evening in stride and spoke only with his two close companions, but she suspected it affected him deeply.

"The Black family has accepted our invitation and they have returned home from London," she ventured lightly. "Mrs. Black wrote to say her family is in superior health and look forward to tonight's engagement."

Lucius had not ventured to ask after the family as of late, but she remembered his initial curiosity regarding them and thought it might cheer him to think that perhaps they did not judge him unfairly.

"Wonderful," he said quietly, "Another tasteless family to mock the Malfoy name."

"They have been under their own fair share of scrutiny," Mrs. Malfoy said, "I think of anyone they can understand the unbearable weight of a false scandal."

"We shall see," he replied bitterly, and just like that, he shut himself off for her by drifting his eyes back to the window, and she knew he would have nothing more to say.

If they had supposed tonight's ball would shift the behavior of their society, they were most assuredly disappointed. To be sure, their guests were lively and enjoying the ball. They were kind and attentive to the hosts, but the young master was not given the same treatment. As the family stood at the door to greet each guest, they suddenly turned to give Mrs. Malfoy another handshake, or swiftly averted their eyes on their way to the ball and avoided speaking to Lucius entirely. It was as if he had some terribly communicable disease. An abysmal ghoul of their society that, mortifyingly, his parents saw fit to display than hide in their attic.

He stood before the high paned windows of the ballroom underneath the soft glow of the moonlight dripping over his shoulder onto the dance floor and disappearing into the bright lights of the ballroom. The curtains were pulled to his right, obscuring him from half of the room. He stood with his arms crossed, near enough to the elderly gentlemen's table who did not dance. Women outnumbered men in his generation, so many women were sitting and waiting for a partner, but none wanted _him_. For most of the evening, he passed his time in the same spot, shifting from leg to leg, crossing, and uncrossing his arms. Boredom, dread, and anger flooded his body and caused him to sweat nervously.

Lucius had the decency to bathe and dress for the occasion. His dress robes were smart, matte black and grey, and he had pulled his hair back and secured it with soft ribbon the way his mother liked, but he had done little else to lift his spirits.

Two or three hours into the evening passed him by, and Lucius watched the line of dancers and partners shift and change through the night, but he never moved from the window himself. Candra and Theo were conveniently absent themselves, though their parents and siblings attended. They had also experienced the same moroseness of being shunned, and so were refusing society as much as they could.

Just before the current dance ended and the next lineup began, a figure approached him to the right, though Lucius took no notice as the curtain obscured his view. He did not see until she was directly in front of him and it startled him out of her reverie.

"Mr. Malfoy," she said, dipping her head as she curtseyed for him.

"Miss Black," he replied, and bowed.

He had thought Narcissa Black quite pretty from her visage in the window, but being near her allowed him to notice the great depth of beauty she possessed. She had the finest eyes he had ever seen on a woman, dark and intelligent sapphire eyes peered back at him with great curiosity. Her lips were blooming and brightly rouged in pink. Everything about her was graceful; she was quite tall and willowy, only a few inches shorter than he was which he estimated would place her at five feet eleven inches.

"It would seem I am without a dance partner," she remarked to him lightly, with a soft arch of her eyebrows, "My sisters will tease me so if I am sitting on the sidelines. Siblings are a disaster that way. You should be lucky not to have any."

He straightened himself and stopped leaning against the wide pane window. "Allow me to accommodate, Miss Black, and keep you from the scorn of your sisters."

He held out his arm for her to take and escorted her to the end of the line where the other partners were. The women and men stood opposite of each other. With such a long line of dancers each taking their turn, the dances took thirty to forty minutes to complete, and so the dance partners had much time to talk to one another.

"My mother says your family has been detained in London," he remarked.

"Oh yes, my uncle has been dreadfully ill," she said, "It is his age, you know. His nerves are not what they used to be and as a result, he is often plagued with headaches and dizziness."

"I understand you are a certified Healer?" he inquired, "You seem best suited for the role of caring for your uncle then."

She seemed surprised that he knew this information about her. Absently, Lucius wondered if his reputation for ignoring women was the cause for this. It was justified; he was quite certain that if he had ever danced with Narcissa Black, he would have remembered it. The reality, however, was that he very likely had paid her no great deal of attention at all. Theo had remarked she was not in society yet, therefore not eligible to be married, and would not likely be showcased to any of the bachelors at parties. He could not ascertain if this meant he had never danced with her or if this was yet another example of his rudeness and ill-mannered behavior.

"You are quite right, Mr. Malfoy," she said, after she recovered, "I try to be a dutiful Healer to my uncle, though that is not without difficulty. He has always been a man easily crossed and now pain renders him very much inconsolable at times. Imagine it: he is overcome with the sorrow and pain of his headache and will not eat. I try to give him a draught to ease the pain, but it makes him drowsy. He must not be drowsy! He must read! Yet he cannot read for the pain. I tell him he must take his potion and a meal, then he can read, but he says he cannot do either because the pain is too overbearing that suddenly he feels too ill to sit up."

"And how do you bear it, Miss Black?" Lucius asked, "How do you get him to take his potion _and_ a meal?"

"I put the draught in one of his favorite desserts," she replied, "Know this if you want something from my uncle, he cannot resist a chocolate and spiced rum cake. And the spice from the rum means he can scarcely taste the draught. He was quite happy and reading within the hour, convincing me he did not need anything for his headache."

"Stubborn," Lucius reflected, with an agreeable smile.

"All men suffer from it," she retorted, "That is one ailment I cannot cure, Mr. Malfoy, though in vain I suffered from trying."

"I wouldn't know," Lucius said, "I have not an ounce of stubbornness in me."

Narcissa sighed dramatically at him in gest. "He says, quite obstinately, after I spent much of the evening watching him refuse to move from one place in the dance hall. I shall declare it now: Lucius Malfoy is of the most stubborn of men in the room, as my uncle is not here to claim the title."

It came to be their turn to dance in the line. They crossed over one another, their palms lifted to each other but never quite touching. They wove in through the other dancers and became small pieces of pretty, rhythmic display. A man made a mistake in the movements and nearly collided with Narcissa, who merely laughed and moved aside. Her agreeable and lively nature lended itself to his own alacrity, and just as soon as the dance ended he had asked her for another. And so they passed the next half hour together dancing and talking, until it was time for them to adjourn the dance floor to move to the dining hall. Lucius made no airs about attending to the natural civility of flirtation by flattering another woman with his presence or seeking attentions with anyone else, assuming he would have had the opportunity to even do so given his current predicament. He did not squander the opportunity to sit at her side. So attentive was he to her that his parents remarked upon it from the other end of the room at the head of the table.

"Does Lucius not look nourished from Miss Black paying particular attention to him?" Mrs. Malfoy asked Mrs. Black, who glanced down the table.

With careful consideration, she remarked, "Yes, I believe he does. Cissy has that way about her, she lights up a room, and do you not agree, Mr. Malfoy?"

"She does," Abraxas Malfoy said, nodding. "Lucius has been quite down about the Greengrass investigation. I keep telling him he is an honest gentleman and nothing will come of it—"

"Oh to be sure," Mrs. Black interrupted, "My husband was just remarking on his clearly evident innocence the night before, and you'll recall he is a judge on the Wizengamot court. The news has gone too far this time with printing that poor girl's private thoughts."

It went on like this, the parents complimenting each other's offspring, agreeableness, and the tragedy that had befallen Lucius. Down the table, Lucius and Narcissa were having a lively discussion about Herbology. She was keener on mundane plants after bearing witness to St. Mungo's on the third floor that treated poisons and maladies incurred by magical plants. The most frequent abuser was the Venomous Tentacula, which appeared at first as a regular English ivy until it had wrapped itself around the throat or stuck the victim with poison.

"It's quite lethal, actually," she told him, "If it has the thought to, it can kill a fully grown man with its nettles and bite. Luckily, it seems to be mostly mischievous than murderous."

"I have always wanted to procure one," Lucius admitted.

She was shocked. "Are you also fond of caring for dangerous creatures? Do you intend to keep a dragon in your south garden as well, Mr. Malfoy?"

"No, no!" he assured her, "I am _merely_ curious about what possible medicinal qualities we could discern from studying a handsome plant such as the Tentacula."

"An antidote," Narcissa said, "for its own toxins is about all anyone has been able to create."

"So there is room for additional discovery," Lucius argued.

"I will see you on the third floor, Mr. Malfoy, when you've been strangled by it!" she replied, laughing freely, "For your sake, let's hope it does not find you irritating and kill you on the spot."

After dinner, more dancing commenced, but Narcissa resisted moving to the line again. As she was not out in society, she did not have strict requirements for dancing with multitudes of gentlemen. He escorted her out of the dance hall to roam the foyer freely and explore his home. He showed the many parlours and lounges on the ground floor. She appropriately applauded his mother's taste and refinery, admired the tapestries and portraits with generous attention, and lavishly supplied her opinion on the overall beauty of the home. Her favourite room was his father's private library, attached to his study, and he found he rather liked watching her wander down the aisle of the shelves, her fingers drifting along the spines. He followed behind her at a small distance, taking in the swirl of her dress and the spark of sharp intelligence and wit in her every movement.

She turned the conversation to his insecurity eventually, which he thought she might, but she had thus far been very polite about it.

"It's a shame about that poor girl," she said, plucking a book from the shelf and opening it to a random page. "It has been the talk of everything lately. Did you know they are publishing her diary into book format?"

"I had no idea," Lucius said, feeling his cheeks going red at the thought of everyone having such tangible evidence of his bad behavior in their hands.

A book seemed far worse than a newspaper or magazine to him. Somehow, it made it that much worse.

"Yes, well, the family has signed a book deal," Narcissa continued, "Her sister is going to write an introduction for it, a kind of eulogy, to celebrate her short life."

"Her sister is very kind," he replied softly.

Her eyes flashed brightly as she looked up at him. "Or she understands the importance of positive affirmation when her family's public divorce used to be all anyone could talk of. Now poor Miss Greengrass's tragedy has opened their disgraced reputation to sympathy rather than scorn. It's very fortunate she died when she did, isn't it?"

Lucius did not respond immediately, but he blanched considerably at the insinuation. "Do you suspect her family of murdering her to raise their status in society?" he asked her intrepidly.

"Well, I certainly don't suspect _you_," she replied evenly, "Shy, gentle Lucius who keeps to his close friends and family and has never had a single scandal in his life but this? You did not even play Quidditch or rival with Gryffindors. You allowed others to do so in front of you, sure, but that only plays more into your passivity."

"I assure you, Miss Black, I am not always so passive and kind natured," he said, "I have been known to have quite a temper. I am quick to impatience and my mood is not always so delicately sanguine—"

"_And_ you are stubborn," she interjected, with a smile as she slid the book back into its place on the shelf. "This I could ascertain without speaking to you at all. I should tell you, Mr. Malfoy, that no family of merit has ever gone through life with a spotless reputation. Those beneath them always seek to destroy anything they see as perfect, as they cannot obtain it."

"That might be true," Lucius agreed, "but it doesn't make it any less difficult."

"No, maybe not," she agreed, stepping closer to him, "But it does make you decidedly more interesting."

"Was I not very interesting before?" he asked, pretending to be slighted by her words.

"Quite dull, Mr. Malfoy, with your books, drawings, and perfect manners," she retorted, "All men should have a bit of an edge to them. Don't you think that makes them more appealing to women like me?"

She was so close to him that he backed into the bookshelf and spread his palms out, flexing them nervously as he touched the tops of the spines. He swallowed nervously.

"And what sort of woman are you, Miss Black?" he asked her, his words coming out just barely above a whisper.

Her hands moved up his chest slowly, her eyes drawn downward and followed her fingers as she touched the fabric of his clothing and felt his heart beating in his chest. She moved up his collar and adjusted his tie for him, then smoothed his collar.

"One you want to know all about," she told him finally, turning her eyes up to meet his. She kept her hands wrapped securely around his tie.

"Indeed," he muttered, absently biting his lower lip.

She suddenly plucked a book that was near his hip and stepped away from him. She opened it and pretended to be studying it most judiciously as the door opened and a wandering group came in to explore the room. She tucked the book under her arm and left him burning and confused against the shelf.


	4. Chapter 4

Freezing sheets of rain faded to snow and ice as November gave way to December. The winter months proved particularly brutal that year, and much of their winter engagements were canceled. It did not thaw until the middle of March, and Lucius welcomed it with relish as he watched the buds of flowers slowly arc their spindled necks toward the sun. With warmer weather, reporters gathered to the edges of their property. His father kept the Aurors from the house and the law prevented them from administering Lucius with Veritaserum, and so in many ways, he felt safe for the first time since the night Scarlett Greengrass died.

It was eight o'clock and Lucius and Candra were in a pub called the Woven Hollow in Somerset playing cards. Smoke curled in the air above Lucius and the cards blurred in front of him. The Woven Hollow was much different from the White Wyvern, as it was much more family oriented like The Leaky Cauldron, and so there were many witches and wizards alike around the room, even small children not yet old enough to attend Hogwarts. Since the murder, Lucius avoided The White Wyvern, attributing fault to the establishment for the spiral his life had taken.

Candra was quiet and contemplative that night, studying his cards with urgency. Once or twice, he flicked his gaze up to Lucius, but then averted his eyes immediately when he took notice of it. Lucius had come to understand this meant that Candra wished to talk about something personal, but he could not be persuaded to do it succinctly. Lucius looked up and watched him as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat and sighed. He took a great gulp of firewhisky and sighed.

"Has your back been bothering you?" Lucius asked, keeping his tone neutral.

Empathy and concern could turn Candra away from others, as if the idea of someone caring about his wellbeing was detestable. From his observations, the Zabini's preferred to be silent in matters of their weaknesses and feign strength and health when they could hardly stay upright.

"No," Candra muttered, his eyes tightening, as if he were irritated that Lucius would even presume such a thing.

"Right, mate, but you're twitching in your seat," he remarked, "Have you run out of the potion I made you last month?"

"Might have," he replied, casting his eyes around them to see if anyone had heard their exchange.

He threw his head back and drained the last of his glass. Lucius rolled his eyes, took a drag from his cigarillo, and then exhaled. The plumes floated above his head in intricate swirls.

"Very well," he replied, "I will make more."

Candra grunted in response. The front door opened and loud shrieks of laughter rang out. They both looked to the door. Lucius straightened his back. The Lestrange brothers came in with Bellatrix and Narcissa Black floating in behind them. Bellatrix was slightly taller than her sister, perhaps Lucius's height, with long ringlets of jet-black curls, which spilled down the red cloak she wore. She had a small circlet in her hair with rubies and black diamonds, and her eyes were sharp with severe intelligence. Lucius knew her to be very spirited—some called her outrageously fun and adventurous. She could not be more different in appearance from Narcissa Black, who was soft and bright as a halo standing next to her. Bellatrix was all angles and sharpness; she walked with the gait of a soldier—methodical and practiced. Narcissa was lithe as a dancer and twice as elegant.

"I would destroy her in bed," Candra growled.

Startled, Lucius turned his attention from the sisters. "Who?"

"Bella," he replied with a sniff, collecting the cards of their game (Lucius lost again) and shuffled them in his hands.

"Oh," Lucius replied absently, "Yes, she's quite pretty."

"Mad," Candra corrected, glancing up at him, "You mean she's quite mad. Which is half the fun, you know, when you are not sure if they are going to ride you or kill you. I'd let that one rip my heart straight out of my chest if she wanted, so long as I got some."

Their party sat at a wide raised table toward the front of the room near the bar, and Rodolphus Lestrange ordered drinks for them. Lucius lingered along the bar for a moment as Candra was speaking, and then he curled his lip.

"You can't be serious," Lucius said, taking up the cards Candra dealt him.

Candra smiled to himself and shook his head. "You don't get it, Malfoy."

"Explain it to me then," he encouraged, flipping ashes into the tray near his elbow.

He smoothed his hair over one shoulder. At the urging of Mr. Nott, he had cut a few inches in February, but his hair was now drifting down his chest. The strands ended and skirted the tabletop in front of him.

"I can't explain sex to a virgin," Candra retorted, "I'm not a bloody poet. Read something perverse, perhaps it will give you an idea of what one of 'em feels like."

"You would have me read erotica?" Lucius asked, fighting the urge to smile and failing, "To understand why you want to fuck Bellatrix Black? Is there a particular piece you have authored that you can recommend to me, Candra?"

"Sod off, Malfoy, don't rile me up!" he exclaimed, redness blossoming up his neck into his cheeks.

Lucius tilted his head back and laughed loudly. "So you have written something!"

Candra glowered at him as the barmen deposited another bottle to their table. Lucius poured them both glasses and took a measured drink from his glass, surveying Candra over it, and trying to keep himself calm long enough to swallow the burning liquid so as to not cough it all back up.

"Look, don't tell Theo any of this, all right?" he asked him, suddenly serious.

Lucius's smile faded. "Why would he mind?"

"Because—" Candra hesitated.

Lucius realized this must have been what he wished to tell him all along. Candra sighed and pulled a bit of parchment from his pocket. He unfolded it—it was in a dreadful state, as if Candra had crumpled it up and unfolded it repeatedly. He slapped his palm against it, trying to flatten it the best he could, and slid it over to Lucius to read. He scanned his eyes across the short letter quickly, his eyes narrowed, and then he casually returned the scrap to Candra.

"Well we all _knew_," Lucius said, "Now it is just confirmed."

Candra grunted unintelligibly. Internally, Lucius was actually quite shocked, but he remained calm. He knew if he expressed any surprise by the contents, Candra would grow deeply embarrassed about the situation. The letter was short, merely a few sentences, but its meaning was very plain. Theodore Nott confessed his small affections for Candra Zabini, in so small words, and apologized for any discomfort it may cause him. The surprising part was that Candra kept the parchment at all, especially on his person, and that he wished to spare Theodore's feelings by not allowing Lucius to tell him that Candra's affections lied elsewhere. Thought admittedly, Candra's affections could be mentioned in relation to most decently attractive women, Bellatrix Black was not the focus.

"I don't know what to say about it, so I've said nothing," Candra admitted with a low shrug, "Always thought he'd fancy you, with your long girlish hair."

"You can't deny the appeal of an athlete," Lucius retorted, turning his lips into a small smile. "I must confess, Candra, that while I have received no such letter myself, I have experienced something of Theo's infatuations. It is the reason I refuse to give an alibi for the night at The White Wyvern. Do you understand?"

"So you _aren't_ a virgin," Candra replied with wickedness.

"I—bloody hell, _yes_ I am," he hissed, "It was not that serious. That said, I think it is much more logical to find that Theo holds _you_ in higher regard."

Candra narrowed his eyes. "Why? The two of you are so much alike."

"That is precisely why it makes more sense. Humor me, good friend. You like the exotic look and independence of Bellatrix Black. Because she is different from other pureblood ladies, I am assuming, and because of her superior wit, intelligence, and the inherent danger you observe," Lucius remarked, "Could not the same attributes—wit and intelligence excluded—be applied to you? So you see you are exotic in this respect and therefore attractive."

"I don't like that you have just called me attractive," Candra replied.

"Of course you would not, you're a brute and don't understand I was speaking hypothetically," Lucius retorted.

Candra was quiet and he knew that he was not thinking about any of the nonsense Lucius had just said, but the former more important bits.

"Fine," he said after a few moments of silence except for their cards moving, "Suppose you are right. What do I say in response to this? How do I behave? I am decidedly _against_ the idea of—you know—but also don't want to…"

"Hurt his feelings?" Lucius suggested, as the long ridge appearing along Candra's forehead seemed to be the result of great distress over words too emotional for him to say.

He nodded curtly and then took a great gulp of firewhisky, to both torture himself into absolution and uphold appearances of his masculinity. However, to whom he meant to display this to, other than himself, was beyond Lucius, for _he_ had no qualms regarding his own sense of self as a man, and therefore sought no reason to establish meaningless acts of suffering as proof of worth.

"No doubt your silence has caused great anxiety," Lucius continued, ashing his cigarillo into the tray. "So you should apologize for the delay in response."

Candra nodded thickly, and then gestured for him to continue.

"Secondly, you should appreciate his honesty," he said, "Admire his tenacity and good faith for explaining his feelings so openly and in an act of goodwill…"

Candra interrupted him and left the table. Lucius rolled his eyes. He watched him go up to the bar and lean against the top of it on his elbows and shout something at the barman, and Lucius had no doubt he was asking him for ink and parchment. The man was reluctant, but finally passed the objects over with a quill. He was even kind enough to lend him an envelope. When he returned, Lucius watched him scrawl 'To Mr. Theodore Nott' on the top of the parchment, and then he turned his face up to Lucius expectantly.

"Very well, then," he drawled, with a heavy sigh. "Cross out your heading, it's much too formal. We've known each other since we were five."

"But I don't want to write 'dear' because I don't want him to think he's dear to _me_," Candra said.

"But by the very nature and length of our friendships, he _is_ dear to you. Otherwise, you would not be so despaired in how to respond to him."

"Oh."

He crossed it out and wrote it 'Dear Theo' at the top.

"My hand is already cramping," Candra whined, "I never write letters."

"For Merlin's sake," Lucius replied with a sigh.

He plucked the quill from Candra's right hand, stole the letter from him, and quickly began writing:

_Dear Theo,_

_I am frankly too stupid to write a letter on my own, so I have employed Lucius to do it on my behalf. After a conversation over cards, Lucius has determined my approximate feelings regarding your letter, which I am not intelligent enough to understand myself, but which he has the unfortunate ability of translating for me now, so here goes._

_First, I wish to thank you immensely for your courage and honesty. I understand that this was not an easy letter for you to write. Your admission of affection has caused no undo emotional turmoil except that I am incapable of understanding the English language, and so it took quite a bit of time for me to read it. I hope this has not caused you distress. Our friendship will, of course, remain in the highest esteem I can afford. I am sorry I cannot return your affections, but this does not affect how important you are to me._

_Your friend,_

_Candra_

"Hey!" Candra exclaimed upon reading it.

"Is it _wrong_?" Lucius asked.

He said nothing in return, but folded the parchment and placed it into the envelope, which he then pocketed securely. They played another round of cards (Lucius was losing again) and as he was lighting another cigarillo, a figure approached their table.

"I couldn't help but notice a certain Wiltshire stranger in my neighborhood," Narcissa remarked with a wide smile. "Of course, I also noticed my dear neighbor. Mr. Zabini, how are you?"

She curtseyed, but it was short and informal.

"Well," was all Candra said.

"I hope you are having a good evening, Miss Black," Lucius commented at the same time.

"Indeed! My sister and her fiancé were very kind to have included me," she replied, "And to find such agreeable company the very same night! I hope I am not intruding. Would the two of you wish to join us at our table?"

Lucius affirmed her wishes readily as Candra swept his cards into a pile and placed them in the pocket of his robes. They moved tables to the larger party's at the front of the room. The Lestrange brothers heartily drew two extra chairs up to the table to accommodate them and Narcissa introduced them to the table.

"What brings you to Somerset, Mr. Malfoy?" Narcissa inquired.

"I am staying with the Zabini household for eight or so weeks," he replied.

Bellatrix turned her large dark eyes to Candra for the first time and smiled. "How wonderful! Your family has been our neighbors for nearly twenty years! You must bring Lucius by one afternoon for tea while he stays."

"I certainly will," Candra said.

Rabastian and Rodolphus lived in Taunton, a mere fifteen miles from Somerset, and Lucius was inclined to believe that was much of the appeal the young couple's betrothal. He did not ascertain great affection between the two and thus came to determine they were one of the myriad of pureblood marriages that were conveniently placed but not one of great romance.

After a few rounds of cards and ample liquor to warm their regard toward one another, they left the pub for the chilled outside air to sober up and walk. Rodolphus and Rabastian walked a good deal down the street together.

Lucius stumbled at once and caught himself on the railing of the steps of the pub. As he steadied himself and took another step to the street level, he stumbled and nearly fell.

"Mr. Malfoy, please," Narcissa said kindly, "Allow me to help."

"Thank you," he said.

She took him by the arm and steadied his balance. "My sister has disappeared; did you happen to see where she went?"

"No," Lucius admitted, looking behind him and then down either side of the street.

Candra was also missing, which Lucius understood better than Narcissa that it was no coincidence. Lucius veered to the right as his equilibrium betrayed him, and she laughed loudly and held onto him to keep him from toppling over.

"Right," she said, "Let's find a place to sit down, Mr. Malfoy. I think walking might be a detriment to your health."

She found a nearby café still open and helped him up the steps and inside the doors. She sat him down at a table and then went to the front counter to order. Lucius watched her blearily as he pressed a cigarillo between his lips and lit the end with his wand tip, perhaps one of the few bits of magic he was confident in performing while intoxicated.

When she returned to the table, she was carrying two cups of coffee. She placed one in front of him and then sat down across from him.

"There, drink this, it might help," she instructed.

"Thank you," he murmured.

He drank it black without sugar or cream, deciding the bitterness might have a sobering effect. Instead, he found the coffee was robust and full flavored and entirely tasteful, quite the opposite of his expectations.

"Now, you must tell me all the fascinating things you have been doing since we last spoke in November," Narcissa said warmly, wrapping her fingers around the white mug.

"Nothing of interest that I could beguile you with, I am afraid," Lucius said, "Reporters have been posted at my gate since the snow thawed and follow me about London and Wiltshire."

Narcissa brought her glass to her lips and sipped softly. "So you have gone to Somerset for privacy."

"That and my parents are very keen to see me married to Miss Eliza Nott," Lucius replied.

"She is very sweet," Narcissa told him, "If they should choose her, I believe you will have a very kind, good-natured wife."

"You are not wrong," Lucius replied, biting hit bottom lip.

"But you do not want to marry her?" Narcissa guessed.

He nodded. "Correct. I practically grew up in that house; she is like a sister to me."

"Well, you know how I feel about sisters," she said, placing her hands flat along the table.

"You seem to love your sister very much," he commented, looking down at her hands as her fingers absently traced the lines of the wood.

Narcissa wrinkled her nose. "She is tolerable, I suppose."

Which Lucius knew translated to Bellatrix being very dear to Narcissa, though she annoyed her enough to reject the idea of it.

They finished their coffee and, once Narcissa determined him sober enough to stand, they left the café and went into the night to walk about the center of town around a spritzing fountain and a high moon.

"Why do you smoke?" she asked him curiously, "I have never in my life, though the odor is faintly appealing. Is the scent why you do it?"

He turned the cigarillo in his hand and held it out for her. She was surprised, as ladies were not allowed to smoke and especially not in the company of a gentleman, but she accepted it. She placed it to her lips as she had seen Lucius do many times throughout the night and inhaled sharply. She sputtered, not expecting it to burn down her lungs in such a way, and then exhaled the smoke into the air.

"I'm afraid I still do not understand," she admitted, laughing.

"Let me help," Lucius said, taking the cigarillo from her hand.

She looked apprehensive as he stopped walking and turned her to face him by her shoulder. He took a drag from the cigarette slowly, inhaling deeply into his lungs. She raised her eyebrows, and was just about to comment that she did not believe he was being very helpful, when he pressed his lips to hers and exhaled. The smoke furled from both of their mouths and Lucius clasped her jaw and deepened their kiss. A small jolt went through her and she sighed as his tongue touched hers.

The wind picked up softly, sending droplets of cold water from the fountain across Narcissa's shoulders and back. She pulled him closer to her by the front of his cloak, and he tossed the cigarillo off to the side so that his free hand could circle her waist.

He moved to her neck and she laughed absurdly. "Mr. Malfoy!" she admonished, and then the laugh caught in her voice turned to a moan. "We're in public, in front of everyone—"

She pushed him away; her cheeks held a delightful blush and her dark eyes were wide with shock. She slapped his shoulder. "You scoundrel! Tricking me like that! I thought you were actually about to teach me something."

"I could teach you a great deal more, if you are interested," Lucius drawled.

"Mr. Malfoy, I believe the firewhisky has gone to your heard," she replied, laughing again, "I must take leave of you at once."

"Come back with me, the Zabini's would be glad of your presence," he urged her.

She placed a hand on his wrist. "Mr. Malfoy, if I went home with you tonight, we would have quite a problem on our hands."

"What problem is that?" he asked her.

She kissed his cheek chastely, but her hand did not move from his wrist. "Go home, Mr. Malfoy, and sober up before you tempt me more."

He touched her jaw again and kissed her lips, which he had thought much about over the winter.

"I will not tempt you toward evil," he agreed, "Only goodness."

She firmly pushed him away this time.

"Mr. Malfoy, you are decidedly evil, I should say," Narcissa said resolutely.

He paused. "I am terribly sorry, Miss Black."

Narcissa cast her eyes around them, but they were alone. She stepped toward him suddenly, her palm open. He hissed as her hand connected with his crotch solidly, his erection and testicles cupped at the base of her palm, her fingers spread up his length.

"You don't _feel_ sorry," she whispered, kissing him on the jaw and squeezing him roughly.

His brain had exploded, electric synapses rushing through his entire body and language escaped him. The only thing he managed was a stupid stutter and mangled breath of air that came out of him by accident.

She released him and said goodnight, and he watched her Apparate. With a sudden pop, she was gone, leaving him alone and drunk on something much harder than any spirit could afford him.


	5. Chapter 5

The corridor blurred in a haze of warm, flickering light and swirling darkness as Lucius slowly shuffled up the hallway, his arm held wide to brush his fingers along the wall to keep his equilibrium and sense of order. He was flush and sweating along his forehead and the back of his neck. He had long sense lost his cloak; half the buttons on his shirt were ripped off and left askew somewhere. Time was a tempest that kept churning in and out of focus and beyond his reach. Colors were bright and spastic and he almost thought he could hear them screaming in shades of red and brown and black as he wandered aimlessly up the hallway, but such sounds also could have been his own barking laughter and confusion.

He managed to find a staircase, but not trusting his legs, he turned around. Or at least he thought he had, as the next moment he realized he was falling down three steps before he caught himself on the railing with his arms. The wood was cool, and he watched the etching of the wood move in front of him, stretching out to the wall and up above him. He pressed his back against the steps and stared up, as the roof above him gave way and all he saw was as tumultuously churning grey sea.

Birds chirping in the early morning woke him. He squinted in the stark, dim light. He was frozen to the core. As he sat up, he realized he was in the Zabini's south garden, lying vertically over a thorny rose bush, which had ensnared the back of his shirt. He rolled over and unceremoniously fell backward into the dirt behind the hedge. He realized skull was shrieking, a splitting pain that began at the nape of his neck and ran all the way to the bridge of his nose and pulsated. His back and shoulders too felt twisted and marred with aching.

He managed to stand up, and then fell back again, covering himself in the rich textured soil.

"Malfoy?" a voice called to him.

Candra was half-dressed and unkempt, his cloak dragging on one shoulder. He was covered in dirt as well, so it appeared he had also spent the night in some hedgerow.

"Over here," Lucius groaned out, as he tried to lift himself up again.

Candra found him. His face swam closely to Lucius over the rose bush, and he shot his arm out to help him out of the garden. He yanked him over the large hedge and onto the garden stone walkway. In vain, Lucius attempted to brush the soil from his white shirt.

"I think we overdid it," Lucius remarked, "Perhaps I should not have quite so much to drink next time."

Curiously, Candra raised his eyebrows. "You don't _remember_, Malfoy? It wasn't the spirits."

"Obviously, if I had any control over myself last night, I would have found myself this morning in a bed," he replied darkly.

"Right, well," Candra replied, "It was _your_ idea to smoke seer's sage—you plucked it right out of our ingredient cabinet and rolled it yourself."

Lucius furrowed his brow. "Seer's sage? You mean Salvia?"

Candra nodded. "Yes, you said it was hallucinogenic."

"Indeed it is," he replied thoughtfully, rubbing his thumb across his lower lip and unknowingly covering it in small, dry smears of dirt.

"I have to say," Candra said, "One of your finer ideas, mate. I'm starting to think you might _actually_ be fun."

Lucius watched him trudge up the garden walk to the house. As Candra went inside, a window on the third floor opened. He watched Bellatrix Black scale her way down the side of the jutting small bits of stone to the ground, and then disappear toward the woods, which would take her home, her dark hair blowing back off her cloak.

He trudged toward the house and slipped in through the back door. Candra's family was in the breakfast room already, and he quickly averted down a side hall to avoid being seen by them. He went around a narrow back corridor the House Elves usually took until he thought he was safe from prying eyes, and then he exited and went up the main staircase.

After a long bath and fresh clothes, he left the guest room where he stayed and went to the lounge on the second floor where he found Candra, sitting on a sofa and listening to the referees during a Quidditch match.

"Have you read today's garbage?" Candra asked, sensing Lucius's presence rather than actually observing it, as he had come in silently.

"No," he replied.

Candra curled _The Daily Prophet_ in his arm and raised it behind above his head. Lucius took the paper and uncurled it. Across the front page splashed the title: BOYS WILL BE BOYS, EVEN IF THEY ARE MURDERERS.

"Creative," Lucius replied with a heavy sigh as he dropped himself into a leather back chair.

_BOYS WILL BE BOYS, EVEN IF THEY ARE MURDERERS_

An Analysis by Wilhelmina Cuthbert

_For so long, our community has prized itself on the strength and resilience of our young wizards and witches. We bring them up with integrity, curiosity, and courage with the hopes that they will become shiny instruments of goodness in our society. Hogwarts is the finest institution in the world. Wizards and witches of all types are permitted to study here, no matter what background or class they come from. _

_The Sacred Twenty-Eight, despite their overwhelming prejudice against non-purebloods and any others they believe below them, bring their children to Hogwarts! We are not shocked to find that most behavioral issues come from Sacred Twenty-Eight children, that most rivalries, bullying, and disruptive behavior comes from wealthy pureblood families of nobility. In fact, while the Sacred were lining their cloaks with galleons, the rest of the world was quite aware of their brutality all along. For a society, which wields so many decrees for their young, they have very little control over them._

_It was not long ago that Lucius Malfoy, Theodore Nott, and Candra Zabini were found at the scene of a crime. The murder of Scarlett Greengrass shook the foundation of the Sacred Twenty-Eight community, exposing the depths of the brutality that goes on in their 'polite society'. No one else was in the vicinity. No others bore witness to the murder but the three pureblood young men, who were deeply inebriated after drinking__all night. There were no other witnesses! They were arrested and detained in the Ministry immediately on suspicion and yet, miraculously, they were not given Veritaserum that night. In fact, they were not submitted for questioning because of a loophole in the law (Cygnus Black, a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and Wizengamot Judge presented and voted to pass said law) which states that unmarried pureblood men cannot be questioned without their father's approval. The law goes further to state that the Ministry cannot apply Veritaserum on any pureblood gentlemen of any marital status without a chain of custody approval from the Minister himself. _

_What does this mean? It means that the rights of pureblood men are more valid than any other witch or wizard in England. Their homes cannot be searched, assets cannot be seized, and their innocence is default and any guilt is exonerated or kept secret. Pureblood men are presumed innocent even when faced with evidence against them. _

_The protection of three men, the only silent voices who could shed light on the tragedy that has fallen Scarlett Greengrass, is worth more than her life. Their rights and privilege are worth more than a mourning family who wants answers. Never forget that the law grants three suspects the right to a normal life when they could have been the ones to take Scarlett's. When you see them playing cards in pubs in Somerset with their friends, remember that the law grants them this right. The law has given Scarlett Greengrass nothing._

_Remember that in terms of the law, boys will be boys in a pub in Knockturn Alley. Boys will be boys when a young girl has her throat savagely slit and is violently murdered in the night. Boys will be boys…even when they are murderers._

"This is excessively dramatic," Lucius said as he reached the last page, "My life has been in complete upheaval. I provided my statement. It is not my fault the public won't regard it as fact."

Candra was deeply immersed in the Quidditch game. He grunted in response to Lucius. The news regarding Scarlett Greengrass was infuriating. The case should have been _solved_ already—neither of them had seen anything at all.

"It's just absurd," Lucius continued, "The idea that her life did not matter as much as our silence—of course it does. Nevertheless, we are _innocent_ and she is _dead_, so I would rather say that despite the tragedy, my privacy is justifiably important. My ability to read the news without seeing my family and friends disgraced on it. _My_ right to—"

"We're just scapegoats for politics, Malfoy," Candra interrupted, swiveling his body to face his. "Sooner you realize that, the less it will bother you. My father said so. He said Ms. Cuthbert reported on the law when it first passed. Said she has always hated men."

The depth of the journalist's hatred for men aside, the outrage spurred by the article was vicious. In the last few remaining weeks that Lucius stayed with Candra, Howlers were delivered so much and so often to their doorstep, that Mr. Zabini no longer accepted owls. They were instead routed to a shed outside with a silencing charm around it, where the Howlers could carry on well into the night.

It was afternoon, and the day before Lucius returned home, when the Lestrange brothers called upon the manor with Bellatrix and Narcissa Black. It was a cool spring day with no rain and weak, watery sunlight. Mrs. Zabini exiled her children to the garden so that she could have some semblance of peace and listen to her audio book club on the radio. Lucius was reading in one of the iron garden chairs while Candra was several yards away in the center of the garden with a stubby bat in his hand, which he occasionally swung about and hit a whistling Bludger back into the sky.

Candra's mother, who announced them, and then shuffled back inside to listen to the radio in the kitchen, let the guests through the back door into the garden. Narcissa and her sister were so opposite it was startling. Narcissa wore a soft muslin dress, which was wispy and white with pale embroidered flowers along the train and up the high empire waist of her dress. Her hair was braided down her shoulder, and wild flowers were neatly braided through the strands of her hair.

By comparison, Bellatrix wore black silk trousers and a velvet camisole in deep green. Her hair was loose and wild, and the black cloak swirled behind her in the breeze.

"Merlin's pants…"

Lucius heard Candra mutter, and whistle low as they approached them from the back steps. The Bludger whizzed through the air—Lucius heard rather than see it first and then it was visible—it crashed through a canopy of trees on the outlaying forest, spinning rapidly toward the new arrivals. It was so fast that no one could shout to alert them. Candra sprinted and dived forth, his bat held above his head. He struck the Bludger just in time to keep it from smashing into the two young women. The concussive force of the bat slammed the Bludger over the garden wall and out of sight again.

"My! What excitement!" Narcissa exclaimed, "You _really_ are very talented, Mr. Zabini."

"Yes!" Bellatrix agreed, linking arms with her sister, "Quite the athlete and the hero, and looking dashing performing such a feat."

Her fiancé grimaced behind her and turned toward his brother. Lucius stood up from his seat and walked the short distance to the party. As he approached, Narcissa glanced away from Candra and her eyes lit up. Her smile turned wide.

"Mr. Malfoy," she greeted, dipping into a quick curtsey with her chin bowed down, her braid spilling down the front of her dress, "I had only just told my sister I hoped you were still visiting!"

He returned her gesture with a bow. Her thin spring gloves were embroidered with tiny etchings of vines and flowers to match her dress.

"Miss Black, you arrived just in time. Today is my last day," he remarked.

"What good fate runs among us," she said.

She slipped away from her sister's arms, folded hers around his, and began walking away from the group about the garden.

"So," she said with a sly smile, "Did you recover from your night of wantonness a few weeks back? I hope the hangover was not something dreadful."

Her voice was cheeky and teasing. Lucius drew a quiet and nervous breath.

"Hangovers of spirits can be cured quite easily, Miss Black," he said, "Hangovers of _spirit_ cannot. I must admit, you left me very undone."

She turned her face up to him, laughing, and swatting at his shoulder with her free hand. But as he caught her eyes, he fell into them, and for a moment, he lived in her world, all sapphire and softness, all eagerness and confidence.

"I apologize, Mr. Malfoy, for causing your distress," she said, "It was not my intention to tease you."

But she pulled him closer to her. Her arms erupted in small goosebumps as the wind picked up. The passed an ancient tree in full bloom and covered in white blooms, which drifted through the air to the grass below.

"Are you cold, Miss Black?" Lucius asked, his hands immediately going to the clasp of his cloak. "Please, allow me."

They stopped along the garden path as Lucius swept the cloak off his shoulders and placed it around hers. He fastened the opal clasp at her throat and smoothed the cloak against the puffy muslin sleeves of her dress.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," she said.

He was poised to say something else, perhaps something clever, but Candra shouted at them to come back to the center of the garden. They returned, walking quickly back without conversation. As they reached the middle of the garden, they saw that Candra had a trunk full of Quidditch supplies and brooms fanned around.

"We're going to play Quidditch, so you lot get over here so I can sort you into teams," he said.

"Candra, there are hardly enough players," Lucius complained, "There are only four of us."

"Six," Narcissa corrected him, "There are six people here."

"Yes, but two of you are women," he replied.

Bellatrix tilted her head with a pinched expression, her dark eyes fastened not on Lucius, but on Narcissa, as if waiting for her response.

"I would wager I am twice the Quidditch player as you, Mr. Malfoy," Narcissa retorted, "And I am inclined to teach you how to play, if you would like."

Lucius tucked his hands into his pockets and shifted to look at her at his side. "By all means, Miss Black, I hold no affection for this sport."

"Very good!" she said, "It is settled then. I will play against you, and when I win, you will owe me a prize."

"Agreed," he said, a small smile flickering across his face.

Candra split them onto opposing teams. Since Narcissa wished to best him, she and Lucius were given the roles of Chasers. Bellatrix and Candra chose Beater positions. Rodolphus acted as Keeper. Rabastanian and one of Candra's brothers were playing as Seekers, though they could not coax the others to join them as Chasers.

Narcissa retired inside to borrow trousers to wear for the game and not ruin her dress. When she returned, she was dressed in a very similar fashion to her sister in black silk trousers, a white camisole, and Lucius's cloak around her shoulders.

Candra blew a whistle and the game began—the single goal was between the tops of two trees on the right side of the garden. Lucius won the coin toss, and so he took the Quaffle first. They kicked off their brooms and soared into the air well above the house. Lucius was already nervous, as he was quite afraid of heights, and Narcissa seemed confident in her athletic ability.

He was off—streaming through the sky on his broom with the Quaffle in hand, dodging Narcissa as she neared him. He tossed the ball through the goal and Rabastanian missed, then dove down to catch the ball for them.

He curved his broom to the side and drifted over to Narcissa.

"I thought you were going to teach me how to play, Miss Black?" he sneered.

"It's not very lady-like to humiliate you in the first round," she retorted.

She caught the Quaffle and dodged her sister as she came crashing through the middle of them, trying to hit a Bludger. By the time she was out of the way, Narcissa was gone.

She scored. Then she stole the Quaffle from him and scored again—and then again, and again, until Candra was screaming at him.

"HAVE YOU GONE BLIND?" he bellowed, "DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHERE THE GOAL IS, MALFOY?"

The next time Candra hit a Bludger, it crashed into Lucius's broom, and he was certain it was on purpose. As Lucius was swerving away from Narcissa, he saw Candra hit the Bludger toward Bellatrix. He heard a scream behind him, and Narcissa pulled back on her broom. He tossed the ball through and Rabastanian, pitying him, jerked his broom away from the ball to allow him to make points.

However, Bellatrix was lying on the grass below. Narcissa hardly waited to safely step off her broom and leaped from it. She dropped to her feet and pulled her wand from her pocket, her cloak streaming out behind her.

Lucius dropped to the ground and hurried over. Bellatrix's arm was broken, but with Narcissa's skillset as a Healer, she had mended it in no time. The game resumed, but Candra's aggression had become overwhelming. They were nearly all victims of his Bludgers—he slammed them toward Rabastanian several times, who narrowly avoided falling from his broom. He dismounted his younger brother entirely, who frantically leaped off the side to avoid the Bludger and plummeted into the grass below.

This too took Narcissa out of the game to check his injuries, and when he was discovered to be fine, she would resume the game. Within the hour, they were all sweating and angry, and on constant high alert from Candra's sweeping, dangerous arm.

After Bellatrix was hit in the shoulder again, Rodolphus loudly called the game and dropped to the ground. As Candra's feet touched the grass, Rodolphus stomped across the lawn toward him. He reared his arm back, punched Candra in the face, and then tackled him to the ground. The two were viciously fighting and snarling on the lawn until Narcissa hexed them apart.

Lucius pulled Candra away from Rodolphus. He could hardly lift him, as he was densely muscular and strong while Lucius was tall and slim. He managed to shoulder him onto a stone bench away from Lestrange. He was not as good as Narcissa, but he sealed Candra's busted lip and siphoned off the blood. The bruises would remain without a potion if he were to try and heal them. There was richly red blood encrusted under Candra's nails from clawing at Rodolphus. Candra's breathing was ragged and his face was contorted in rage. His eyes never left Rodolphus, as if waiting for an opportunity to fight.

"Did you kill Scarlet Greengrass?" Lucius asked him quietly.

"_What_?" Candra swiveled and looked at him with wide eyes. "Why the hell are you asking me that, Malfoy?"

"I…well—you just_ attacked _someone for no reason," Lucius said.

Candra spat onto the ground and stood up. He slammed his shoulder into Lucius, shoved him aside, and walked up the stone pathway to the house. The back door shut with such a force the sound ricocheted off the low stone garden walls, and birds exploded from the tops of trees into the air.

Despite his repeated apologies, the Lestranges refused to stay any longer and left. After a hurried goodbye, Bellatrix and Narcissa departed after them to take care of their guests, leaving Lucius alone. Candra barricaded himself in the lounge, quite resolute to wallow.

That night he dreamed of her. Streams of blonde hair fell down her back and shoulders as her hips danced on top of him. Her breasts swelled each time he pressed himself inside her. She was warm, slick, and wet as he fucked her, and her moans couldn't be contained. Her mouth was delicious, and she uttered deplorable, foul things she wanted him to do to her.

She rode him hard and touched herself, cupping her breasts and pressing her fingers against herself until she climaxed on top of him. She pressed her lips to his wrist and nipped at his flesh, then held his hands above his head and pinned them in place while she rolled her hips. He begged her to make him come.

He woke suddenly, his heart beating rapidly in his chest and his shaft throbbing. One hand was above his head, clenching onto the headboard, and the other was tightly gripped around his erection. He was certain his own sounds had woken him. Feverishly, he touched himself to finish what the dream had started, imagining the sweet scent of her skin, her hair and her breasts. He imagined pressing himself to the hilt inside of her roughly, her nails dragging down his chest as she whimpered.

The orgasm was sudden and almost painful as he was so erect, and his entire body erupted in shutters. His moans were soft as he stroked himself until the pleasure stopped and he was spent. He only managed to clean himself up before he fell asleep again.

But he barely slept. The whole night, he writhed through the sheets deep in fantasy, imagining her naked on a broom, or her dress soaked through, her nipples hard and erect against the soft muslin. He watched her roughly kissing Rabastanian, her tongue sliding across his lips, and then the three of them were in his bed.

He woke once more, his arms strangling the extra pillow he had, his fingers clenched, waking just in time to climax with his hips pressed against the bed. He sighed and untensed, then slowly drifted off to some semblance of sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

If the initial news reports of had damaged his reputation, the last one nailed shut its coffin and shoved it dutifully into the ground. Families were growing anxious for a resolution. Lucius heard from his father that many of the Sacred Twenty-Eight had written to the Minister themselves to request that Veritaserum be administered to the three suspects just to quiet the rest of the Wizarding world. Above all else, the entire situation was making their community financially uncertain. Investments, politics, charities, and social conscience made the purebloods what they were. Should they be seen as villains then it would do untold damage to most of the families, if not all of them.

Despite this, the families pretended nothing was out of the ordinary. The spring dances opened, and parties commenced from mansion to mansion as they did every year without delay. Lucius was once more trapped in a ballroom with no one to dance with, although he found it particularly grating on the first opening night of the social events than he had previously.

Narcissa Black was introduced to society last December, as the details of her sister's engagement were finalized, but it was spring and summer that women found husbands.

Unlike when they met first met, she had no availability to dance with him that night. He watched her accept partner after partner. She did not sit through any single dance, despite the fact that there was an abundance of young women mingling off to the sides quite alone. After watching the seventh gentleman take her hand and escort her to the dance floor, Lucius plucked a flute of white wine from a table and went outside.

The Goyle's home was a small castle made of stone and iron. There were no gardens, but there were iron sculptures and fountains spritzing outside along the cobblestone covered yard, and high stone walls nearly scouring the tops of trees kept anyone from seeing in or out. He was on the second floor overlooking the courtyard, and thus made use of the balcony railing near the stairs leading to the main courtyard. His wine was perched on the railing near his wrist as he lit a cigarillo and inhaled deeply. He let the smoke plume from his lips and nose.

Above him, the moon was overlarge and bright, more expansive than a regular full moon and appeared much closer that night. It made it easier to see out into the courtyard despite the late evening, and so he was surprised to find two figures slip out of the first floor doors into the courtyard. He rolled his eyes—they were young, spry, and eager. The lovers hid away from the windows between the wall of the castle and a wide statue. They took little time to find themselves, and the woman's skirts were pulled about her hips, the man's trousers pulled down, and they were soon making haste, and though the woman placed her hand firmly over her own mouth, her soft cries of pleasure carried up to the second floor balcony.

He slid away from the railing and drained his wine. He placed the glass back on the railing and turned around. He was going to leave, to give them privacy, but he was intercepted by Elizabeth Nott, the youngest daughter and sister of Theo.

"Eliza," he exclaimed, placing his free hand into his pocket.

"Oh," she replied, as she stepped into the slant of pale moonlight and blushed. "Lu…Mr. Malfoy, sorry to interrupt, I was just going down to the courtyard to take some air."

The courtyard. He bit his lip—the lovers below were not recognizable to him at first, though now in retrospect he realized that it was Candra Zabini and Bellatrix Black hidden behind a statue.

"Shall I accompany you?" he offered, "It's dark, after all."

"I suppose," she said, tilting her head.

He had never offered to escort her anywhere before. In fact, he scarcely made much of an effort to speak to her despite spending around years around one another.

It was clear she did not necessarily wish for his company, but in such circumstances, she felt compelled to be polite. She placed her fingers around his elbow and walked to the balcony with him. As they turned toward the stairs, Lucius flipped his cigarillo over the side of the railing.

"Why weren't you dancing?" he asked her, "Isn't your card full?"

"Oh, well, no. I only had three on the list and I have danced with them already," she replied, "I do hate to sit around, waiting…"

Lucius had never asked her to dance. In the years they were acquainted, he couldn't recall a single instance where he had. Of course, he scarcely remembered any of his dance partners.

They took several turns around the courtyard, which was now empty, and Lucius asked after her pianoforte skills and her final year of Hogwarts. Like many pureblood girls, Eliza Nott had opted to forgo her seventh year of studies to be properly courted and find a husband. She entered into society officially the year prior, and the preparation involved was decidedly too tasking for a young girl to balance both school and social life.

Women were introduced as eligible at different times and by the choice of their parents, but usually no later than one and twenty. Much of the women that entered later in life were the youngest daughter, who waited for her elder sisters to be matched with eligible men so that they were not competing with one another. In the case of Narcissa Black, she was able to finish Hogwarts and take extended lessons to become a Healer because her eldest and middle sister had not yet found husbands. While Andromeda Black scarcely attended events, and when she did, she certainly did not allow herself to be courted, it was rightly assumed she would not marry, and therefore it was acceptable for Narcissa to enter society.

In the case of Elizabeth Nott, she possessed a very standard timeframe, as the eldest child in the Nott family line was a woman who was already married. Elizabeth therefore came of age and was presented.

They walked up the stairs again to the second floor, and Lucius returned Eliza to the ballroom. She curtseyed to him and thanked him for escorting her, and just before she turned to leave, he stopped her to say:

"Miss Nott," he said, "Would you have me as your partner for the next two dances?"

Her worried face twisted into a bright smile. She glanced at the dance currently in progress, nearing the halfway mark, and nodded her head furtively.

"Of course, I would be honored," she said, blushing brilliantly.

She bent her knee again and then turned swiftly away, parting through the crowds of people to a group of young ladies who were all seated. Lucius made his way across the room to Theodore Nott, who was sitting in a highbacked chair with an old leather bound book with feather light pages in his lap and a glass of firewhisky in one hand.

"Now, _that_ page denotes the lineage of the Yaxley line, but they're a bunch of brutes!" Mr. Carrow explained from across the table to him.

"I see that, but why is there a line from this man to this woman when he's higher up?" Theo asked.

Mr. Carrow sighed, and it was clear he had explained this more than once. "Because _this _daughter killed her mother and married her father, dear boy—"

"Fascinating topic, matricide," Lucius interrupted, "And here I was always rather partial to patricide. Must be my mother's endearing personality."

"Lucius, thank Merlin," Theo said, pulling the book up from his lap. He closed the large book and dropped it onto the table. "Mr. Carrow has invented his own history. Apparently, my mother is descended from fairies."

"Tiny feet!" the ancient wizard argued, "Fairies have _tiny feet_!"

He stood up, downed his glass, and brushed Lucius on the arm to pull him away from Mr. Carrow.

"You've come at just the right time," he said, "I was half convinced there isn't a single person here tonight worth speaking to, and then you showed up."

"I do have a habit of arriving in places I don't mean to be," Lucius agreed.

Theo rolled his eyes and took another drink.

"Fair warning," Lucius said, "I asked Eliza for two dances and she accepted."

"Eliza?" Theo asked quizzically, "_Why_ her?"

"I sort of ran into her," he replied, "And it will settle my mother some."

Theo picked up another drink from a floating tray. He offered a glass to Lucius, who declined.

"Your mother still likes the idea of my sister for you?" Theo asked, "Has she ever _met_ Eliza? She's about as interesting as a shoe."

They stepped away from the ballroom into the east wing, which was sparsely lit along the darkened hallway. Lucius realized halfway through that Theo's walk was unsteady and he was already quite drunk, but he said nothing about it. He stopped suddenly, and Lucius watched him fish through his inner pockets for a metal case. He opened it, revealing hand rolled cigarettes, which he placed one into his mouth.

"Do you have a light?" he asked.

The Goyle family required everyone to check their wands in with their cloaks. They were a paranoid family after the Goyle Massacre of 1512, where a hoard of tenants (angered by the rising rent) burst through the castle doors and murdered all but the youngest boy, who hid in the barn beneath piles of hay.

But they had little qualms about matches, and so Lucius slipped a small matchbook from his pocket lit Theo's cigarette for him, the small blue flame reflective in Theo's glasses as he generously accepted and inhaled to keep the cigarette lit. They continued down the darkened corridor and Lucius could hear heavy footsteps above them. The light on the sconces flickered from the movement. Some of the guests must have been venturing upstairs to explore.

"I want to talk about it," Lucius announced.

"What is 'it', Lucius?" Theo responded, "I am not very good at deducing in my current state."

"Candra," he replied.

Theo stopped in the corridor and swayed. He leaned his back against the cold wall and took an unsteady drag.

"Yes, well, you know that phase is over," he said, twisting his fingers together as he exhaled, "For many weeks it has been someone else, and in another week, there will be yet another gentleman I find myself fancying."

"I admit I am quite jealous mine only lasted the hour," Lucius retorted.

"An hour?" Theo repeated, looking dazed, "Speaking frankly, Lucius, you are an idiot if you think I only fancied you for an hour."

Lucius folded his arms across his chest. "I'll come back to that. What I really wanted to ask you about was important. You recall the night Scarlett Greengrass died?"

"I should say I don't," Theo replied, "And neither do you, after the fifth round of firewhisky."

"True, true, but where was Candra?" he asked, "When we found the her, he came up behind me. Told me to say that he had been with me the entire time, but _where_ did he go?"

"He couldn't have been far, he was only just up the street when we ducked down the alley," Theo remarked, "Perhaps the next place over then."

"I can't remember, and it has occurred to me that I _want_ to remember," Lucius admitted, glancing up the hallway nervously, as if he expected someone to overhear.

Theo flipped ashes from the end of his cigarette and watched the light catch along Lucius's pale skin. His eyes glowed, cat-like, in the dim corridor lighting. When he was lost in deep thought, his eyes turned cold and tumultuous as the sea. He must have been ruminating on Candra quite a lot to have brought it up to Theo at a party. Lucius was usually much more methodical and precise.

"So, recreate that night," Theo said, "Go back to the alleyway. See if you remember anything."

Lucius paused for a moment. "That's actually rather clever."

"I have my moments," he said, and righted himself from the wall.

"You'll come with me?" Lucius asked.

"Whatever for?"

"You were there," he said, "So _you_ might remember something to."

Violins floated down the corridor toward them as the next song began, and Lucius remembered he was required for the next dance, so he began walking back the way he came.

"Lucius," Theo said, trailing his fingers along the wall, "The only thing I remember was the taste of cheap spirits and your tongue in my mouth. I admit very little else comes to mind."

"I didn't put my _tongue_ in your _mouth_," Lucius argued with a hiss.

"Well it certainly didn't Apparate there," he shot back.

Lucius gave him a withering glare.

"Go and dance with my sister," Theo told him, "But try to keep your mouth away from her. I know how you are with my family."

They parted ways, with Theo moving unsteadily toward a refreshing tray of firewhisky, and Lucius to fetch Eliza from her lonely chair. As he approached her, the young girls around her fell to fits of giggles. Eliza glowed with white hot embarrassment as Lucius took her arm and led her to the center of the floor.

The couples formed two lines. Men and women stood opposite of one another. The dance could take nearly forty minutes to complete, and Lucius was quite aware he had asked her for two. They were the last couple to join the line and therefore were the lasts to start dancing.

As the music began, they heard a loud raucous of thunder booming overhead and rain began to pelt at the windows.

"Oh, I loathe storms," Eliza breathed, twisting around to look out the windows as lightning lit up the sky.

"Do you?" Lucius asked curiously, as her brother had little fear of the weather.

In fact, he recalled last year when it rained on them while they were traversing through the forest on the Zabini-Black property line, and Theo had very little fear. The two could not be more different, he decided, perhaps due to their upbringing. Women were more sheltered, he thought, and protected from things. Certainly, Eliza Nott was more sheltered than others were, being the youngest of her family.

A crack of lightning erupted across the sky and thunder boomed louder than the music. It shook the castle walls. The wind rushed through the open corridors, and the firelight went out in the chandeliers above them. He heard shrieks of fright and then felt a body colliding with his, and small arms wrapped tightly around his ribcage, so securely he could barely breathe. It was Eliza, whose body was trembling. A fearful cry escaped her lips.

In the darkness, he heard movement of men's footsteps and women's swishing skirts but could not see anyone. Doors opened and closed to the front of the house as men went to fetch their wands to light the chandeliers once more.

"It's all right," Lucius said, in an attempt to be soothing, as he wrapped an arm around Eliza's shoulders.

"It's _not_!" she shrieked, "Oh, someone! Please, turn on the lights! I cannot bear the dark! I hate it!"

The dancers around them slipped away from one another. The room buzzed with alarmed chatter. None of them had their wands, and the continued darkness disturbed them. Rain began pouring outside, splashing wildly against the windows. The wind began to howl, and pinpricks of hot white light lit up the sky outside. The moon was fully obscured in cloud cover, and no longer bled along the ballroom floor.

Lucius disentangled Eliza's arms from his body, twisted his fingers through hers, and pulled her off the dance floor carefully. As he walked, she crept so close to him she could have tripped him with her skirts. Holding his hand did not seem to be enough for her, and she wrapped her free arm around his bicep, entangling herself entirely against him. Each new roll of thunder or roar of rain and wind made her whimper in fear.

He found his way to the wall and stopped to be out of the way. Eliza let go of his hand and wrapped her arms around him again. Her fingers found the lapels of his jacket and she crushed the soft fabric in her hand. Her head reached just beneath his shoulder, and she hid underneath his arm, which he wrapped around her shoulder to accommodate her.

"THIEF!"

The shout came from the foyer, and there was a loud pop as a wand went off and a bright flash of green erupted from the doorway. Lucius realized they were close to the main door as the light lit up the small entrance of the ballroom, and Eliza let out a loud cry.

Several more flashes of light went through the foyer, and several pounding footsteps went up the stairs to the third floor. The members in the ballroom gasped in fright and tittering of chatter swelled in the room. More footstep went out of the ballroom, other men going to fetch their wands and investigate the commotion. Lucius, however much he wanted to go himself, was ensnared by Elizabeth Nott.

"Eliza, it's quite all right, I can assure that you are safe," he murmured, and attempted to remove her arms coiled tightly around his chest.

"You cannot!" she cried, "Lucius Malfoy, if you so much as move toward that door, I will faint!"

Lucius held back a sigh. She buried her head into his shoulder and whimpered as the storm pressed on, and the hard footsteps above them were clambering around. The ballroom fell silent in a hush of eeriness as everyone listened to the commotion going on just above them.

More shouting rang out from upstairs. Lightning burst through the clouds just as a body fell from the upper floor balcony. He watched the dark robed figure spiral and fall in front of the window, and then disappear to the first floor courtyard. They heard, rather than see, the sounds of the body shattering against the stone.

Eliza fainted in his arms, and he managed to catch her just in time before she toppled off onto the floor. It seemed she was not the only one, as he heard several women let out a cry after Eliza had, and crumple into their partner's arms from fright.

"_Ridiculous_," he heard a woman near him breathe.

The footsteps from the third floor pounded across the ceiling and then in just a few moments, they burst through the ballroom doors from the east wing corridor. Bright light arced through the air and light exploded in the chandeliers. Mr. Goyle had his wand poised above his head, and when he lights flickered on, Lucius saw that everyone in the ballroom was grouped in pairs and spread very far out. The fainted women came to when the lights returned, each vying to be the last left unconscious and procure the most sympathy from the gentlemen who caught them.

As he righted Eliza to her feet, he turned to see that the woman standing next to him was Mrs. Black, who had her wand in her hand, and apparently had it for the entire night.

"Sorry," Mr. Goyle said, addressing his guests, "It would appear that a thief was in the antechamber where we placed all your belongings, and another was on the third floor taking jewels. The one in the foyer escaped; the other did not."

The thief on the upper floor had opened the door, allowing the wind to tunnel through the corridors and plunge the castle into darkness. The crowd moved to the courtyard to look at the body and identify the thief, but Eliza was so shaken that Lucius swept her off her feet and moved across the room to a chair to sit her in. He supplied her water to calm her nerves and knelt at her side to keep her safe.

At each churn of the storm, she shrank into herself, and her eyes latched onto the window. Her hands were shaking dreadfully from fear, so Lucius took them in his own to steady them.

"You will not be harmed," he told her soothingly.

"Oh, it's the _sound_! That dreadful sound!" she said, shuddering, "You must think me a fool."

"Not at all," he told her kindly.

Though in truth, he did think her a bit of a fool for being frightened of so many things at once. When the others returned, it was determined that the ballroom should close early. Mrs. Goyle's wife was sobbing from humiliation and apologizing to anyone who came near her. She seized them into her clutching arms, describing to them the extent of her grief. Mrs. Nott finally sought them to take her daughter by the arm and guide her to the carriage and take her home, but she refused to move from her chair with the storm going on until Lucius offered to escort her.

He escorted her out of the front door and across the drawbridge with Mrs. Nott to his left and Eliza fastened to his right. He handed her off in the carriage after her mother, and as she stepped into the carriage, she chastely leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Embarrassed, she scurried into the carriage and shut the door on him. Shaking his head, he went back to the castle.

After collecting his cloak and wand from the antechamber, Lucius stood and scanned the crowd for Theo, whom he eventually found when he went into the foyer talking to his parents. He approached and pulled him aside.

"Who was it that fell from the balcony?" he asked in a hushed whisper.

Theo glanced around them and then went through the front doors. They walked beneath an alcove in the front of the castle grounds and stood beneath the arch of the drawbridge.

"It was one of the Crabbes. The eldest son, Douglas," he explained.

"Really?" he exclaimed with all manner of surprise, "I thought the families were very close."

"Past tense now, I should say," Theo remarked solemnly.

They crossed the bridge together off the Goyle property line, with the wind and rain casting torrents of water over them. The carriages were all lined up and waiting for them, bending around on the trail that led all the way into the Wynn Hollow forest.

"It is still early," Lucius said, "Would you accompany me to Knockturn Alley?"

"To relive the past?" Theo replied, with a small smirk, "Yes, of course, Lucius, if we must."

Once they reached the edge of the property line, they both Apparated. It occurred to Lucius too late that he had not asked Theo if he was sober enough to do so, but when he popped into the quiet, dark Knockturn Alley, he saw his friend already there a few paces in front of him at The White Wyvern, completely dry and unsplinched.

"Which way did we go?" Lucius asked.

Theo pointed behind him. "I think left."

They walked down the cobblestone street together in the quiet darkness. The clouds were dark and fast moving in the sky above them; the storms had not reached London yet, but it appeared they were fast tracking east in their direction.

"Did you enjoy your time with my sister?" Theo asked him with a casual tone, but the higher lilt in his tone suggested to Lucius that he was quite interested to know the truth.

"Oh, yes, before I could even dance with her, she dissolved into hysterics," Lucius complained, "I think my ribs are bruised."

"Hysterics?" Theo asked curiously, "Whatever for?"

"She said she was afraid of storms," he said, "And then the lights went out, and she was frightened of the dark. When Douglas Crabbe fell over the railing, she fainted away in my arms."

"She isn't afraid of anything," he replied, curling his lips in disgust, "In fact, she was bitten quite fiercely by a several garden gnomes by rushing at them with a broom only just last week. She has a temper."

"You mean to say she was fabricating the entire thing?" he asked, and scowled.

And then of course, it became quite plain. Eliza had been on her way to the courtyard when he encountered her. It was he who suggested he escort her through the darkness of the courtyard, as she would have been well aware what time it was.

"That minx," Theo exclaimed quite playfully, "She tricked you."

"She annoyed me," Lucius corrected, his voice dark.

"Here," Theo gestured.

They found the alleyway they had run down. Lucius lit his wand and scanned the cobblestone. In the tiny cracks of stone, he could perhaps see remnants of Scarlett's blood stained deeply, if it was truly hers, but likely rain had cleared most of it. They walked down the familiar alleyway, and the hair along the back of his neck stood up as the air turned electric. He heard distant thunder as he came to a stop near the end of the alley. Rubbish bins were stacked in front of the brick wall. The other side of it was Diagon Alley, in a small crevice between two of the stores.

"This is it," Theo announced.

They both looked up the alley but being here did not remind Lucius of any obscure detail he missed during the crime. In fact, it seemed pointless to have come here at all.

"This was stupid," Lucius said, "I have wasted both of our time."

He began to walk back up the alley but stopped when Theo did not move. He was staring at the wall where Lucius had once stood.

"Theo?" he asked.

"You think I only fancied you for an hour," he said quietly.

Lucius paused. "I am sorry."

Theo laughed and it echoed down the alleyway. It was the painful kind, the sort of laugh that cut through air like knives and lingered, still bleeding, long after the sound was gone.

"Never mind," Theo announced, shrugging off his internal thoughts.

He trudged away from the wall and tried to pass Lucius, who stepped to his right to block his path. His palm touched flat against his shoulder, and Theo inhaled deeply. They were silent as they looked at one another. Lucius did not know why he had stopped him, and Theo did not know why he let him.

All at once, the rain swept through, and with a giant burst of thunder, it began to pour in heavy sheets across the alleyway. Rain drenched Lucius's pale hair into long strands around his face. Droplets fell and shimmered across his pale skin, and Theo swallowed.

"Lucius," he said, his voice strangled in half agony and half hope.

Smooth hands fell around his jaw and Lucius kissed him suddenly. Soft and wanting, he pressed him back against the wall. The force sent a jolt through Theo's chest. Hands gripped his arm, and Lucius's fingers were digging into the fabric of his sleeves hard.

Lightning struck the sky above them. The sound was ear splitting, and Lucius broke the kiss and looked up at the sky. Theo tried to keep his breathing even as he watched him.

"How did Candra find his robes?" Lucius suddenly asked.

"I'm sorry?" Theo asked.

He tilted his chin down and looked at Theo. They were chest to chest still, Theo's legs parted to accommodate Lucius in between them.

"He stripped his robes off in front of the pub, and when he came up to me, he was dressed," he murmured, "Which would account for the person I heard Apparating, if he managed to get his bracelet off, but that would mean…"

"He killed Scarlett Greengrass," Theo finished.

"Or at the very least," Lucius replied, "He saw who did."

Theo noticed Lucius had never let go of his arm, but his eyes were cast toward the ground near them. He also failed to notice the rain or the storm rolling above them. He was just about to speak, when invisible walls pressed on all sides of him and the air in his lungs was forced out of his mouth in a gasp. He landed roughly outside black iron gates covered in rain droplets and fell back onto the gravel drive. Lucius had Apparated steadily and remained on his feet, and he tapped the gate with his wand.

"Some warning next time?" Theo complained, as he got to his feet.

He used his wand to siphon off the gravel and mud from his back and deposited them back to the ground. They walked up the long sloping cobblestone drive to the Malfoy Manor. Theo knew better than to interrupt Lucius in one of his pondering moods, so he followed behind him silently. They opened the front door and stepped in. Theo dried his robes, but Lucius did not. Instead, he walked up the marble staircase and his robes left puddles of water in his wake.

They made it to his chambers. Lucius unfastened his cloak from his throat and draped it across his desk. Theo scrambled and picked it up. He dried it for him with his wand, but Lucius carried on, floating around the room like a wraith, removing items of clothing and leaving them on various surfaces. He drifted through the door to his closet, which was refashioned from the room next door and nearly the same size as the rest of his bedroom, but it was reassembled into drawers fastened up along all four walls and displays of shoes, racks for cloaks and ties. He had several mechanical watches and jewelry arranged in a box which sat upon a table in the center of the room. This table had drawers on all four sides, full of other clothing objects. There was a full-length mirror in between two of the cloak closets.

Theo averted his eyes as Lucius changed in the side room. When he returned, he saw that he left his hair dripping wet around his shoulders. As it started to air dry while he paced about the room, the bottom half of his hair curled into a slight wave.

When Lucius was finally done thinking, his eyes snapped back to attention, as if he wasn't aware how he ended up here in the first place. He stood in the center of the room near his desk, and idly, he moved toward it and pulled open a drawer where he kept his cigarillos and lit one with the tip of his wand.

"How do you do it?" Theo asked him finally, a question that had burned inside of him more than once.

"Do what?" he asked, as he exhaled smoke above his head.

"Just turn it off," he murmured quietly, "All of it. You didn't even notice how we got here. How can you kiss me the way you did in one moment and Apparate us here the next and walk around without noticing you're dropping wet clothes on your sketches and dripping water all over your house?"

Lucius set his jaw and didn't answer.

Theo laughed. "No, you know what, I get it. I actually do. It's the mark of a genius, I guess, to get so consumed by your own thoughts that you forget to eat or don't know where you end up when you're lost in thought. I just wish I could be so in control of my emotions the way you are that I can shut them off to make room for something bigger than myself."

"I don't understand," Lucius said quietly, "I don't shut anything off, I just—"

"You just put it somewhere else," Theo interrupted, "And I wish, Lucius, I wish, I could see inside your head to know what tonight all meant, but part of me doesn't want to, because I know it didn't mean anything. It's just…you."

He started to say something, but Theo held his hand up and kept going. "I want to know how you never noticed that I spent years madly in love with you and _dying_ by your side. I broke last year, I lost control, I couldn't stop myself from touching you—and now I feel like it's my fault that she's dead."

"You didn't kill her," He argued.

Theo bit his lip. "We could put all of this to rest if we just told the truth. But it would cost _you_ everything. It would disgrace me, sure, but I have brothers who can carry on my family legacy. My parents would be disappointed, but it would free me up to my studies in Arithmancy."

"I understand our predicament quite well," Lucius replied, "I am living it."

"And that is why it is my fault that, at the very least, her family cannot rest," he replied, "By losing control that night, I ruined everything. But you're so calm and collected. I can barely stand to be sober, Lucius, I don't know how you manage it."

His eyes flashed, and he turned his head away. His hair fell across his face as he went to the balcony. He shoved the doors open and went outside, and Theo sighed at the sight of him smoking and leaning against the railing. He seemed to hold the very fabrics of the universe together, all the woven threads of it in his fingers.

He was only on the balcony for a few moments before he flipped his cigarillo over the edge and came back in. His expression was unreadable, and Theo thought he was going to carry on pacing about the room until he suddenly kicked the chair at his drafting table over in a fury. It sailed across the floor and landed with a loud clatter by the door. He turned around the room, upending his desk and throwing the extinguished lamp on the table. The clear glass shattered against his bookshelves. He threw reams of parchment, quills, and inkwells, the latter of which splattered black all over the wooden floors.

Theo moved to a corner of the room out of the way, waiting for him to stop. The door opened and his father appeared in his dressing gown and a candle. Lucius pulled his wand from his robes and pointed it at the door—it slammed shut on his father and locked.

"Lucius," Theo interrupted, crossing the room, "That's enough."

He reached out to grab his wrist and rip him away from one of the bookshelves against the wall. Sparks emitted from his wand and with a flick on his wrist, Lucius tossed Theo across the room from him. He landed roughly just over the end of his bedframe on the mattress.

Lucius went back to the balcony. He swung his leg over the edge, and Theo scrabbled off of the bed. He wasn't so far up that the fall would kill him, but it would likely hurt him, especially if he landed in the hedges.

"Lucius—" he began, but Lucius turned his wand on the balcony doors and they too slammed shut and locked.

The curtains fluttered over the glass and Theo exhaled. The door behind him opened and Mrs. Malfoy rushed through the door.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I don't know," Theo said, "I don't—he just lost it."

She went to the balcony doors and tried to wrench open the door handle and wrenched her hand away with a cry, as it had burned her entire palm. She pulled the curtains off to the side and Theo's eyes went wide. Lucius was gone.

A slowing spell brought him to the ground safely. He quickly left the garden and threw open the gate to the forest. The wind howled around him, and he stomped off the forest trail and into the wild depths. He stepped across beds of moss and springy ferns as he made his way through the copse of trees deeper into the woods.

He made it to a familiar cliff overlooking rolling hills of countryside and sat at the edge, his legs dangling over the side of the cliff, and he let the rain wash over him and chill him to the bone until he stopped feeling the rage nestled deep in his chest. He stayed there until every emotion withered away to shivering cold and exhaustion, and there was nothing left to think.

The sky was just a bruise in shades of pink, purple, and blue when he walked slowly back to the trail and up to the stone garden fence. His clothes were soaked and ruined, and his hair hung in curtains, damp, around his face. As he walked back into the garden, the back door opened, and Theo slipped out. He met him midway to the house before Lucius stopped walking.

"I think I have it figured out," Lucius said, his cutting across the lawn high and clear and dangerous.

"Lucius," Theo breathed, taking a step toward him.

He walked with a gait that made Theo unsure of whether he was going to kiss him or kill him, yet he didn't have the courage to turn back and run. When Lucius made it across the garden to him, he stood hardly a foot apart from him, and took one long look at him. Theo knew that look, had relished it in the past hours while he waited for his friend to return. He had long since envied the expressiveness of Lucius's eyes, and loved it a little too, in his own way.

"Lucius, don't," Theo began.

"The answer was right in front of me and yet it eluded me for so long," Lucius said.

"I don't know what you are talking about," Theo said.

"I can compartmentalize everything until I can't anymore, and then I just…"

"I would have this conversation with you," Theo interrupted, taking him firmly by the shoulders, "Believe me, I would. But there are Aurors in the parlor to arrest us."

Lucius blinked and Theo watched him slowly turn in on himself. The openness, which a night in the forest inspired in him was gone. He became a gentleman of refinery and taste, and Theo watched as the spark of truth extinguished as his expression turned neutral.

"Very well," Lucius said.

He dried himself as he walked up the path to the doorway, and by the time he reached it, his hair fell down his back in soft wisps, his clothes were clean. He fixed his tie and folded the collar of his shirt as he walked up the stairs to the back door. By the time Lucius Malfoy stepped into the threshold, he was a cold shadow.

Aurors were waiting in the foyer for them with their wands at their sides. Mrs. Malfoy was cradling Mr. Malfoy's head in her lap on a small seat by the stairs, her eyes shiny with tears. As her son came in the room, she cried out for him to stop, but the Aurors moved in front of her and advanced on them.

"Gentlemen," Lucius said, taking his wand from his pocket.

He dropped it onto a table in the hallway near him and stepped into the foyer. An Auror met him in the doorway, twisted his hands behind his back, and tapped his wand against his wrists. Invisible ropes twisted around his hands so tightly he knew they would leave a mark. He shoved him roughly against the wall as another Auror overtook Theo.

"I've been waiting months for this, Malfoy," the Auror hissed in his ear, "Don't be so docile that I can't enjoy it."

Lucius was silent, which the Auror responded to by ripping his arm and pushing him forward toward the door. The last look he had was of his parents breaking down. They walked him outside into the light morning air. Birds chirruped from the trees, and dew settled along the grass in front of the door. Wild white morning blossoms erupted from the grass, and somewhere a fountain was spritzing off in the far north garden.

He bent his head and folded himself into the black Ministry car and did not look behind him.


	7. Chapter 7

Deep within the confines of the Ministry, there was a corridor behind the courtrooms with holding cells to house transports to trial or Azkaban. Theo and Lucius were separated into cells in different rooms along the same long corridor. He had assumed they would give them Veritaserum at once, and at the very least then Lucius knew they would have to release him, but no one came for him.

He could not be sure of how many hours passed, but he knew they did. There were many stages to how he spent his time. He sat still on a bench with a glassy stare at the floor, pondering all of the reasons he should not be there, that _this_ should not have been his life. When sitting so still began to ache, he moved to pacing around like a caged lion, prone to muttering and sighing heavily. Twice he had lost himself to rage and moved around the room in a hurried pace. There was nothing to wound or destroy but himself, and no instrument in which he could harm himself even if he had wanted to, so in the end he resolved to sit down. The process of sitting, to standing, and to pacing once more was cyclic and compulsive and went on for much longer than he would have cared to admit.

The door down the far hallway opened as Lucius sat on a bench fastened against the stone wall. He heard skirts swishing against the stone floor. He thought to ignore them, until the sounds stopped in front of his cell.

"Lucius," the voice said, the tone deeply threaded with amusement.

He expected anyone but Narcissa Black. She stood in front of the cell in dark green Healer robes with her hair braided and wrapped around her head like a crown. There was a small purse over her arm, and her blue eyes were bright and shiny against the drab backdrop of the cells behind her.

He unfolded himself from the bench and slowly made his way over to the end of the cell. They stood six or so feet apart with the iron bars between them.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her quietly.

"Well, I was on the night shift at St. Mungo's and on those nights, I come to the Ministry to bring Papa breakfast," she replied, "If you don't, he won't eat, see. Then lunch comes around and he decides he's too busy for that, and by the time he gets home he's completely intolerable."

"You know your way around stubborn men," Lucius murmured, recalling their first conversation, "I will give you credit for that."

She flashed him a bright smile. "I _do_ possess a unique skill for it, I admit. Anyway, when I arrived here, I barely made it to the atrium, and it was all buzzing in the elevator that they had arrested you. Papa confirmed it when I saw him, so I came down to see you before I left."

"Why?" he asked, furrowing his brow.

"Because I brought gifts," she said, as if it should have been obvious.

She pointed her wand at a stool beyond his line of sight and pulled it to her. She sat upon it and rummaged through her purse until she procured a silver case, which she opened for him. Inside were a dozen or so cigarillos, likely she had purchased from somewhere in the Ministry. She plucked one from the box and held it out for him. He stepped closer to the bars and pressed it between his lips, and she lit the end with her wand.

He sighed after the first inhale. Narcissa looked delighted to have pleased him. She handed him the case to hold for her while she rummaged through her black bag some more. She produced a thermos of coffee and a croissant wrapped in fine pale green paper.

"You won't have your first meal until noon," she announced, "But I thought you might be hungry now."

"I'm not," he said.

Narcissa passed him the items anyway, and he accepted them as otherwise they would have dropped to the floor.

"I will be gentle with you for just this once, Lucius Malfoy, but be assured I will not be so kind on the subject of you not eating next time," she told him, "I _will_ unleash the fury of my persuasion upon you."

He inhaled smoke into his lungs and shook his head as he exhaled. She produced a small glass ash tray from her purse (which he had a suspicion belonged in her father's office upstairs) and held it out for him, which he ashed the cigarillo into. It was unbecoming for men to smoke in front of women; in fact, in their society it was banned, but Narcissa seemed quite used to it. He supposed she must love her father very much to be at the end of her hospital shift and come to his office after to care for him.

"Have they administered the Veritaserum yet?" she asked him.

Her voice was so light and casual she might have been asking him the weather.

"No," he admitted, "But I suppose they will soon, and everyone will know the truth."

"Ah," she said, and her voice took on an edge he had not heard from her before as she added, "So you _did_ kill her then?"

She was not judging him, Lucius realized. It was disappointment he heard in her voice.

"No," he said, and then turned his face away. "I didn't kill her. I don't even know who did."

He watched as she held out her hand for the cigarillos. He obliged her, and she lit one herself with her wand. It looked natural—she had smoked them before. She exhaled smoke above her head and leaned her shoulder against the bars.

"What truth will they uncover?" she asked him.

He hesitated, and she tilted her head.

"Impropriety?" she guessed.

"Yes," he said.

Narcissa nodded, crossing one leg over the other, and drawing the cigarillo to her lips. "You hired a woman from a brothel?"

"No," he answered.

"That was my first guess," she admitted, shifting on the stool, "Because Scarlett worked for a brothel near Bath to help offset her family's debts. At least she had been thinking about working for one, I am not sure if she ever did it. She came into St. Mungo's on one of my shifts; she had taken something, and was quite out of it, so they initially thought she had been poisoned. So, when _you_ became involved and it seemed clear you did not murder her, I assumed the three of you had hired her and something went awry."

"Why would you associate with me then?" Lucius asked her quietly.

"Because I assume every many is improper at some point in their lives," she answered simply, and with a flash of a smile she added, "We cannot all be as perfect as Elizabeth Nott."

He sighed deeply. "You saw that?"

"No, but my mother saw the entire affair and said Elizabeth was, if I recall, 'a detriment to her sex' for being so dramatic," Narcissa replied.

He laughed, the sound hollow and echoing across the room. Narcissa passed him the thin ash tray through the bars and he pressed his finished cigarillo to snub it out. Idly, his hands moved to the thermos of coffee and he uncapped it.

"How much did you fancy it, Lucius?" she teased him, "You, her dashing prince, coming to aid against the savage rain?"

Heat rushed to his cheeks and she laughed loudly, a harsh bark that echoed across the room. It was unlady-like to laugh so, but Lucius realized he hardly minded the woman in front of him who smoked like a man and held a laugh that rang out with truth.

"So," she said, without quite meeting his eye, "What _did_ you do that you are so determined to keep secret?"

He thought of not telling her, but it was intrinsically easy to talk to her. He did not know if this was another skill she possessed, to appear to intimate to others, or if she had become such a center of his thoughts that it created a false intimacy between them.

"I was down the alley where she was killed," Lucius said, his throat restricted and hard. He pressed his palms together and rubbed them together slowly. "And I didn't see who killed her because Theo and I were…snogging."

"Is that all?" she said, and then her laughter rang out like bells across the room.

When she finally settled, her lips still twitching, she added, "You have good taste."

"I'm sorry?" he repeated.

"Theodore," she answered, "He is very handsome, I was merely commending your choice."

"Thank you?" Lucius said.

He was dumbfounded by her, which made her laugh again.

"This will disgrace me," Lucius told her when she finally settled again, "I'll never be able to marry. The Malfoy name will die with me."

Narcissa bit her lip, forcing peals of laughter back into her throat. "That is quite a thing to say."

"You don't agree?" he asked.

"I think it would be more damaging were you not a Malfoy and if you didn't enjoy the company of women too," Narcissa replied, folding her hands together in her lap primly, "But seeing as I know you were quite pleased to be snogging me, I should say you will be the feature of gossip for a while, and the news of your ambiguous sexual nature will pass just like Scarlett Greengrass's death will fade into obscurity, because the famous men tied to her are innocent."

"I'm not so sure we are all innocent," Lucius added quietly.

She nodded matter of factly. "Ah, yes, Candra."

Lucius sat down on the floor and spread his legs out. He leaned his shoulder against the bar and curled his hair to one side as he slowly broke the croissant into pieces in his hand.

"You suspect him as well?" he asked, "What do you think of that considering his relationship with your sister?"

She raised her eyebrows. "And here I thought that Lucius Malfoy was only capable of being observed and not observing. This truly has been the most enlightening conversation I have ever had sitting outside of a jail cell."

"Feel free to come by whenever you wish," Lucius quipped, "I'll be here all day."

"Witty even when incarcerated," she remarked loftily.

"I promise it is the effects of your company and not my nature," he said, "I was quite silent for the hours prior to your visit."

She passed him another cigarillo through the bars and lit it for him.

"I still never claimed my prize from the game I won," she said.

Lucius accepted the light and exhaled smoke above his head.

"What would you like?" he asked her, "I have a half-eaten croissant, a cigarillo, and coffee."

"So many options, I fear I will never be able to decide," she replied.

He glanced up at her shining, intelligent eyes and nearly lost himself in them.

"You distracted me from answering the question I posed about your sister," he said.

Her smile still fixed upon her face, she said, "Yes, I did."

"And you are not going to offer your thoughts on the matter?" he asked.

She angled her body to press closer to the bars, leaning her elbows against her upper thighs. "I will if you eat the rest of your croissant."

The fact that she had distracted him enough to begin to eat at all was a feat in itself, but Lucius obliged her and ate the rest in between taking drags from his cigarillo. When he was done, she held her hand out to take the paper wrapping from it and placed it into her bag. He watched her expectantly for an answer, and as she clasped her purse shut, she began.

"Rodolphus doesn't like women," Narcissa explained, "It's an agreed arrangement between the two of them. They are very close friends and always have been. This is why Bellatrix married so far beneath her; he offered her freedom."

Lucius had never considered such a match before, though it was likely to him now that this occurred more than he knew. How many parents were in his society that were the same way? Were these the ones who never talked to each other at all, and instead found opposing corners of the rooms and spoke to anyone but each other? Or were these the ones who seemed like dear friends to one another, but lacked the longing looks which Lucius had caught his own parents exchanging often throughout the years?

"Very well," Lucius said, "Your thoughts on Candra then?"

"The news chose you to focus on because of your name," Narcissa replied, "but Candra and his siblings played with us in the woods when we were little. He has always been a man on the verge of implosion. It would not surprise me if he killed her in blind rage."

"He asked me to tell everyone he was with Theo and I the entire time," Lucius told her.

"Bet he wouldn't say that if he knew what the two of you had been doing," Narcissa replied, raising her eyebrows.

"Indeed," he agreed with her, a smile crossing his face.

The doors at the end of the room clanged open, and while this startled Lucius and he jumped to his feet, Narcissa did not get up from her stool. She remained with her shoulder halfway through the bar, and her leg pressed against the cool metal. This was the first time Lucius felt significantly taller than her, and he was admiring the braid coiled around her head when the Auror who arrested him appeared in the corridor at the end of his cell.

"What is this?" he barked, "You're not allowed visitors."

"I'm not a visitor," Narcissa replied coolly, "I'm Judge Black's daughter and a Healer at St. Mungo's, I was merely inquiring on the health of your inmate, McTavish."

The Auror sneered at her. "He looks fine. You can go, _Miss_ Black. I have official Ministry business to tend to, and Mr. Malfoy has a confession of murder to make."

"Well, Lucius, when you do finally confess to brutally savaging that girl," Narcissa said, looking at him over her shoulder, "Be sure to write me a letter."

She stood up slowly, smoothing her robes as she did, and then picked up the end of the stool. She scraped the wood loudly against the stone floor, emitting high pitched squelching as the chair dragged behind her.

"Oh," she said, turning around before she left, "Where might I find Theodore Nott? The next one over? I want to make certain he knows to write to his girlfriend."

The Auror nodded. "Down the corridor, third door on the right. Don't _dally_, Miss Black, or I'll send for your father to collect you."

"Thank you," she said, and she and walked swiftly from the room.

The Auror pointed his wand at Lucius and bound his arms again. The jail door locks clicked out of place and slowly rolled open.

They took him down a back corridor which was dark, long, and winding. When they opened the door, Lucius recognized it as the interrogation rooms they had hauled him into once before on the night Scarlett Greengrass died. A man in black robes was standing off to the side with a tray. A small grey bottle and a dropper was the only thing on it. The Auror placed him roughly into the high backed chair and left his wrists bound together. As the Auror settled on the other side of the chair, what Lucius assumed were Aurors in training filled the corners of the room and stood silently to watch him.

"This is possibly the highlight of my career, Mr. Malfoy," The Auror said with satisfied glee, "I have wanted to deconstruct the pureblood families for a long time."

"It's a shame I have to disappoint you then," Lucius said, leaning toward the table as he tried to readjust his wrists for more comfort.

McTavish grimaced and unfolded a roll of parchment from his pocket. He smoothed it in front of Lucius, who read over it quickly. It was a request for Veritaserum administration. The Auror watched him read it with a wicked smile that deepened as Lucius flicked his eyes at last to the bottom of the parchment with the Minister's signature and seal.

"Now you know your rights," The Auror said, and then gestured to the potions master with the tray.

They forced Lucius back, pinning him by his shoulders, though he was compliant and had not made effort to resist. His nerve was unyielding and strong, which the Aurors in the room whispered about. He heard them, as the potions master pulled the stopper from the vile and reached for his jaw.

"He doesn't seem frightened," one of them whispered, "And he's about to confess to murder!"

"That's how the Malfoys _are_," another one replied.

The man plucked a dropper into the vile and brought it back up again. Lucius had seen Veritaserum before; he brewed his own in his seventh year of Hogwarts. It seemed no different from water, which was perhaps one of the reasons it was so dangerous. One could slip it into almost anything. When the man swiveled back to him, he opened his mouth and let him place three drops of it onto his tongue, and then dutifully, he swallowed.

"When does it start working?"

"Instantaneously," the potions master responded dryly.

Something was wrong. Lucius knew the effects of the potion should have made him slightly dazed, as if part of him was locked in a drawer. Recognizing this was his only chance to obscure the true nature of his actions that night, he determined he should not give away that he was unaffected. Lucius imitated what he learned in school by slacking in his chair, his face neutral and unfeeling. Whatever they had given him was either not Veritaserum, brewed improperly, or was something else entirely.

"We have to get this right," The Auror said, his legs bouncing beneath the table, "I'll ask him questions to test the effectiveness before we get his confession."

The Auror cleared his throat. He pointed his wand at a quill and parchment on the desk so that it would begin transcribing the interview for him. A clock on the wall above him was ticking rhythmically, the pendulum swinging back and forth as a wizard in a top hat and blue robes ticked away on the minute hand.

"What are your parents' names?" he asked.

"Abraxas and Ophelia Malfoy," Lucius answered, keeping his voice low and mechanical.

"Who were you visiting with before we came to collect you?"

"Narcissa Black," he answered.

"Is Narcissa Black your girlfriend?" The Auror asked.

"No," Lucius replied.

The Auror nodded his head. "Very well. Did you kill Scarlett Greengrass?"

The room went quiet. Some of the trainees tittered around them after he asked the question.

"No."

The room exploded in buzzing at once at the revelation, confirming to Lucius that they must have been inexperienced in the matter. The Auror had to raise his hand and quiet them. After their whispering stopped, he began again.

"What were you doing up to the point that you discovered the victim's body?" he asked.

The truth was not bubbling or frothing at his lips, and it did not spill out from him helplessly or out of his control. He was calm and assured, as he began to answer. It was difficult to hide his elation with the notion that, in this moment, he somehow evaded possibly destructing his entire life.

"Theo and I ran down an alley," Lucius said, "I don't remember much because I was drunk, but before we made it to the end, I heard the sound of someone Apparating. When we walked back, we found her."

"Where was Candra Zabini?"

Lucius paused for a millisecond and then answered, "I believe he was one street over, but I cannot say for certain. I did not confirm his whereabouts."

"When you first gave your statement, you said that you 'all' went down the alleyway," he said, "Was this a lie?"

There was no room for error or hesitation. He had no idea if they had already questioned Candra and therefore knew more than him. It was possible that they knew everything already and were quite aware that he was lying, but he could not think about that. Lucius knew he could only move forward.

"Yes," he said smoothly, despite the fact that his heart was racing.

The Auror stared at him for a long time. He wondered if he suspected that the Veritaserum, for whatever reason, had not worked. Instead, he sighed heavily and shifted in his chair. He gestured for the students to file out, though he made no move to leave himself. Once they left and the door shut behind him, the Auror leaned forward on the table with his elbows.

"You were right," he said, "You disappointed me."

He stood up and went around the table to wrench Lucius up from his chair. He walked him back down the corridor to his holding cell and placed him inside and then slammed it shut. Lucius sighed heavily. The Auror released the binds on his wrists from outside of the cell and then marched off, fuming. He slammed the door at the end of the hall behind him, and Lucius thought he heard him shouting down the corridor.

The next thing, he supposed, would be questioning for Theo and Candra. Lucius presumed he would be able to go home once the others were done, though they had never given him a time frame. He laid across the bench and covered his face with his eyes and sighed, hoping it would all be over soon.

The next morning, the clanging of the door down the hallway woke him. They had given him a single meal at dinner and allowed him to shower, but his entire body was aching from sleeping flat on the bench. He expected to see the Auror, who would announce he discovered he had somehow managed to trick the potion, but it was his parents who appeared on the other side of the bars.

"Lucius!" Mrs. Malfoy exclaimed, tears rolling down her cheeks, "My sweet boy. They have only just allowed us to see you, I swear. We have been trying since they arrested you—it's been so awful!"

He uncurled himself from the bench and stepped across the small square cell to the bars where she was. He placed his hands through them, and she grasped hold of his hands in her own and kissed his thumbs.

"You look awful!" she sniffed.

"Thank you, Mother," Lucius retorted.

His response elicited a small and nervous smile from his father, but his mother was crying so profoundly that notes of humor could not breach the wall of sorrow blanketing her.

"How have you been getting on?" she asked, "Are they abusing you in anyway? Your father was in the Minister's office practically all last night. We will let him know if they are not taking care of you."

"I am fine," Lucius assured her.

The ramifications of telling his mother they had not served him high tea and provided the utmost finery was not a complaint he wanted to make when he was at the mercy of his jailors. Mr. Malfoy pulled his wife from Lucius and into his arms. She was inconsolable. He doubted she slept through the night or had done much more than fly into hysterics every few moments over the thought of what happened.

"How did the investigation go?" Mr. Malfoy asked.

"Fine," Lucius admitted, "Er—it didn't seem to work. The Veritaserum. I told the truth anyway, of course, but…"

Mr. Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "The Ministry would not give you malfunctioned potion, Lucius. I am sure it worked just fine."

Lucius knew it had not worked. He _knew_ that because he had spent the better part of a month in Hogwarts procuring the perfect Veritaserum with the finest ingredients. And he spent countless nights staring at it, tweaking and perfecting it until his potion was the only one entirely clear, tasteless, and odorless. Lucius _knew_ something was wrong because he had slipped it in a first year's breakfast, cornered him after, and asked him every embarrassing thing he could think of.

There was something wrong, he just did not know why the potion did not perform as it should have and had little resources to discover why.

"Are you faring well in this dreadful place?" Mrs. Malfoy asked, "It's so damp and cold! They should keep you in better conditions! This is despicable, to keep you in the same place they keep _criminals_! And you and Theo should at least be kept together—oh Lucius, tell me you are not lonely!"

Lucius reached for her hand again, as it seemed to provide her some comfort. She clutched his hand with hers and left her husband's side as fresh tears dropped down her cheeks.

"I am fine," he assured her, "Narcissa Black paid me a visit yesterday to pass the time, it was—"

"How did she get in?" Mrs. Malfoy exclaimed, "They wouldn't let us past the doors! They only let us today because your father got a letter from the Minister. How could that be? How did she get inside?"

"She just walked in," he replied, shrugging his shoulders.

Mrs. Malfoy turned to her husband and snapped, "I _told_ you that we should have just barged in! What are they going to do? Arrest me?"

"Yes, that was precisely what I thought they would do," Mr. Malfoy replied bitterly.

Lucius could tell this was an argument that occupied much of their day as his mother anguished and his father tried, in vain, to find a solution for her. It was with great reluctance (and tears) when a guard advised that their time was up, and they would have to return home.

Mr. Malfoy turned bristled and enraged, demanding his son be released, while his mother kept her handkerchief to her face and sobbed. He heard them, either arguing or sobbing, the entire way down the hall until the door shut behind them, and then Lucius was left alone.


End file.
